


i dream of love as time runs through my hand

by justine472



Category: Holby City
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-07
Updated: 2018-06-17
Packaged: 2019-04-19 18:29:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 64,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14243235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justine472/pseuds/justine472
Summary: Another AU fic - this time the world of   Teaching English As A Foreign Language. Serena Campbell is Director of Studies at Holby International English Centre when a certain Bernie Wolfe applies for the Head of Teacher Training post.  But little do Bernie and Serena  realize that they have met before- 28 years previously in Casablanca when they had a one night stand. Neither has ever quite got over it. But how can they move forward?





	1. Stepping Out

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first attempt at a fic. I chose a work setting I used to be familiar with, but I may be out of the loop in some ways, so if any real TEFLers are reading, please excuse the inaccuracies. I have researched as best I can but this has not been beta'd so any mistakes are all my own. I'm new to this and all constructive feedback is most welcome. The first chapter is NSFW, but not all are. I'll give warnings as necessary. I'll try to update at least once a week, hoping life doesn't screw up the plan too much. I really hope you enjoy this.
> 
> Any acronyms or foreign words used will be included in the notes at the end. The song for Chapter One is Joe Jackson's "Stepping Out".
> 
> The title is from "Desert Rose" by Sting and Cheb Mami.

**CASABLANCA, MOROCCO, 1988**

“You look as though you need a blood sugar fix”, said the pretty brunette, holding a plate of food in front of Bernie, who stood, gulping air and sweating slightly, on the veranda of the villa where the party was being held. The newcomer took a swig of her wine while her deep brown eyes took in the length of Bernie, from her desert boots up her long slim legs in the tight Levi 501’s, to her tan Moroccan woven leather belt and tan suede waistcoat over a simple white cotton shirt, right up to her blonde hair, fixed in a none too neat bun, strands now escaping and sticking to her neck

Seemingly unaware of the attention, Bernie focused in on the plate and took a fragrant spiced meatball on a stick, and a lump of Brie, then some orange segments, feeling her stomach settle and her equilibrium slowly return.

 “Thanks, you must be my guardian angel” she said, wiping her brow and taking another small meatball with a piece of flatbread. “Stupid me, arrived an hour and a half ago from a 4 hour car trip and headed straight for the beer the minute I got out of the shower.”

The brunette smiled sympathetically, putting the plate down and leaning against the pillar next to her. The movement made the light fabric of her patterned wrap-around blouse cling tightly to her full breasts. Bernie jerked her eyes up, embarrassed to find she must have been staring.

“I’ve been watching you,” the brunette said in her velvety voice. “You look like one of those characters in a western who just rode in from some far-flung outpost”.

 “Ha ha”, Bernie laughed, releasing a loud honking sound that had people looking round to detect the source of the noise.

 “Actually, you may be not far wrong. I’m based in the Deep South, working on the textbook project – it’s my colleagues who’ve organised this party. This is our half-yearly networking bash. “

 “Ah, I see. Well I’m Serena, and I teach here in Casa for International House”.

 Bernie extended her hand. “Bernie”. She fished in her waistcoat for her Winstons, offering them to Serena.

 “No, ta,” she replied, “I’ve gone over to the local brand”, and she pulled out a packet of Fortunas, leaning over to get a light from Bernie’s Zippo. As she did so, she put her hand on Bernie’s just for a few seconds to steady the flame, leaving Bernie with a tingle that shot straight to her stomach.

 As they straightened up, another person came none too steadily through the door to the veranda, all honey gold hair and sharp angles, in a low cut red dress, her green eyes heavily made up. She had a cigarette in her mouth and was clutching a bottle of Moroccan red with which she proceeded to top up Serena’s glass”.

 “It says ‘Guerrouane’ on the bottle, but I’m sure that’s Moroccan for Shiraz. Now Serena, darling-“  looking up and taking the cigarette out of her mouth, “who do we have here?” she asked in a predatory manner, running her eyes over Bernie as she might a prize thoroughbred.

 “Siân, this is Bernie, she works on the Textbook Project’, Serena explained, hiccupping slightly and giving away the fact that this was not her first or even second glass of wine of the evening.

 “Bernie- Siân- my colleague at IH. We came out from the UK together- old friends from uni”.

 Bernie gave a small smile but she had no real desire to continue the conversation with Siân, a feeling that appeared to be mutual.

 “Serena, do you see that gorgeous waiter over there? That one in the black shirt with the buttons undone?”

 Serena squinted in the direction Siân was pointing. “Yeah, what about him?”`

 “He keeps catching my eye- he’s already offered me 4 different kinds of _amuse- bouche_. Frankly, darling, I think he’s exactly what I need to _amuse_ my _bouche,_ don’t you?”

 “Siân, you can’t go around seducing the catering staff! He could get into trouble.”

 “Watch me”, and Siân turned and made her way back into the room, weaving purposefully in the direction of the waiter. Serena looked after her in exasperation.

 “God, why did I ask her to come with me to this party? Serena sighed.  “ _Toujours la m_ _ê_ _me histoire…_ damage control required. See you later,” and off she went.

 Bernie grabbed another bottle of Flag Spéciale from the ice box and wandered back inside, where she was waylaid almost immediately by her room-mate, Claire.

 “Hey Bernie, guess what? Hamid’s just turned up so we’re off to crash at his cousin’s place. It means you get the room to yourself, OK?”

 A pair of dark, hairy arms suddenly came into focus snaking their way round Claire’s midriff and Bernie got a partial view of Hamid ‘s dark curly hair and moustache as he nuzzled Claire’s neck from behind.

 “Oh, Ok”, said Bernie, somewhat at a loss for words, as Claire was then tugged away by her boyfriend, turning around and mouthing over her shoulder “Have a good time!” and winking suggestively.

Suddenly alone, sober and curious as to what sort of good time might be found, Bernie moved deeper into the villa, looking for people she knew, or, better still Serena, who she would like to know. The sound system was playing a song she had always liked.

_Now_

_The mist across the window hides the lines_  
_But nothing hides the colour of the lights that shine_  
_Electricity so fine_  
_Look and dry your eyes_

As she moved through the darkened rooms like a voyeur, a shiver went down her spine, a little spark of excitement, as if she was on the edge of something significant.

_We_

_So tired of all the darkness in our lives_

_With no more angry words to say_

_Can come alive_

_Get into a car and drive_

_To the other side_

She finally found a group of her colleagues, and hung out with them for a while, drinking more beer, and nibbling on some delicious, crumbly cinnamon biscuits that were being passed round in a plastic bag.  She looked for Serena but couldn’t see her. Bernie felt strangely elated, relaxed and optimistic, she had no concept of time passing, but the party seemed to be going on forever. At some point she headed for the bathroom, and, washing her hands she looked at herself in the mirror, noting the dilated pupils, but not thinking it significant.

 As she made her way back to the lounge area, Siân suddenly appeared. “I need your help”, she hissed.

 “Really? Why?” asked Bernie, intrigued.

 “Serena’s being hassled by some French dyke’”.

 Bernie felt a stab of something like jealousy, but she remained expressionless.

 “What does that have to do with me?” she asked.

 “Well firstly, Cowboy, you look like every lesbian’s wet dream and secondly, you almost certainly speak French, which I don’t. Now go and rescue the damsel in distress!”, and before Bernie could protest, Siân grabbed her by the shoulders and propelled her in the direction of the large dining table where she could see Serena, slumped, obviously the worse for wear, trying to repel a tall redhead who was seated beside her, all octopus arms and seeking mouth.

  Taking in the scene, her heart in her mouth, Bernie covered the ground in a few strides and  tapped the redhead on the shoulder.

 “ _Va te faire foutre_ ”, the redhead mumbled, without turning.

 Still standing, Bernie bent down and said into her ear “ _Laisse-la, elle est_ _à moi!”_

 The redhead immediately turned and paused for an instant in confusion when she saw Bernie’s height, her gravity, her eyes black and menacing.

 “Here you are, darling”, said Bernie loudly, “I’ve been looking for you”, as she moved around the seated redhead, putting one hand on Serena’s shoulder and the other on her hand to help her up. Serena gave a sob of relief as she used Bernie’s hand to lever herself up and away from the other woman. She grabbed Bernie round the waist, hanging onto her belt loops, and started to speak, but Bernie said in her ear.

 “Ssh- come with me”.

The redhead stared at them in disbelief, then she stood up, looking round for her friends. The room was all dark corners with the indistinct shapes of embracing forms strewn around. Aware that Serena wasn’t moving quickly enough to make a run for it, Bernie had an idea.

“Showtime”, she whispered, and in an instant, Serena found her back hard up against the wall and Bernie’s mouth pressed to hers. At first she couldn’t process what was happening but then the soft pressure of Bernie’s lips, her light citrusy scent and the strong grip of her arms fired a response in Serena’s brain. As Bernie pulled out of the kiss, she saw Serena’s eyes dark and wide with something like surprise, and then Serena tugged her head back down and began kissing her back with passion. As soon as Bernie felt Serena’s tongue push between her lips she opened her mouth and the flood of sensations that shot through her almost made her legs buckle. Serena tasted of red wine and cigarettes, but underneath was something sweet and tangy, totally intoxicating. They carried on kissing, Serena’s hands frantically scrabbling to pull Bernie’s hair out of the bun and tangle her fingers in it, Bernie holding Serena’s head, her thumbs on her jawline, teasing the short hairs at the back of her neck. Bernie became aware of a mewling sound coming from Serena, which only made her kiss deeper, but then she was panting, coming up for air, her heart pounding, legs like jelly and a deep stab of desire in her belly, wetness between her thighs. Nothing had ever felt like this before and she felt both lost and yet incredibly powerful.

 “Serena,” she murmured, rubbing their cheeks together and nuzzling her neck. Serena shot a glance over Bernie’s shoulder and what she saw made her turn and hide her face in Bernie’s shirt.

 “Oh my God” she mumbled.

 The three Frenchwomen were staring at them in amazement, then the redhead shrugged her shoulders and said something to her cronies ending with “….. _foutre le camp_ ”, and all three left the room. Bernie, still holding Serena tightly, swung them around to see what was happening and was greeted with the sight of a figure in a red dress clapping enthusiastically.

 “That was quite the performance ! Tip-top, Cowboy, I knew you had it in you!”  she purred, but before Bernie could find a retort she continued smoothly “Serena darling, I can see you’re in excellent hands. Enjoy yourselves, girls, and don’t come back too early tomorrow!” and Siân hoisted her handbag, turned on her heels and began to walk away, as a black-shirted arm appeared and snaked round her waist.

 Bernie immediately untangled herself from Serena and stepped back. Serena felt the air between them cool instantly, surprised by how acutely she felt the loss of Bernie’s touch and scent.

 “Serena…I…didn’t mean to give you the wrong impression” Bernie stammered, “I’m sorry if …” and she tailed off, unable to find the right words.

 Serena, though still rather drunk, had rapidly regained her senses once she became aware of Siân’s ploy.

 “No, don’t apologise, Bernie, it’s my fault, I got myself into that mess and you came and rescued me. Siân’s a cow, she’s always doing this- picking guys up and making me sleep on other people’s floors.  I’ll..I’ll talk to Sarah and Jonathan, see if they can find me a corner somewhere. “

 “Absolutely no need”, said Bernie. “It so happens I’ve been dumped, too, but my room-mate has gone off  with her boyfriend. So I have a twin room upstairs with an ensuite and a bed going spare. You’re more than welcome to share… that’s if..” and she looked down, suddenly worried that Serena might interpret her offer as a come-on.

“That would be fantastic, if you really don’t mind”, Serena said. “God, I’m feeling shattered now, I think I should go crash, but, please don’t mind me, go and enjoy the rest of the party”.

 Bernie glanced at her watch. “It’s 2 am, it’s pretty much over, and I’m tired too. Long day. You go on upstairs and I’ll make some black coffee and get us some water. It’s the room at the end of the corridor on the left, with the blue door.”

 As she spoke, Bernie felt exhaustion wash over her, overlaid with a feeling of unreality, as if she were floating through fog. She saw Serena nod and head for the stairs.

 In the kitchen of the villa, the host, Jonathan, showed her where the coffee things were and she brewed a pot, grabbing two litres of drinking water as well from the large fridge. The hazy feeling she had was making her dizzy, and she realized very belatedly that there must have been hash in the cinnamon biscuits she had eaten. She tried to keep her focus on the coffee, answering Jonathan’s polite questions as briefly as she could. Fortunately,  her clinch with Serena seemed to have escaped her hosts, so she explained briefly that Serena would stay in her room as she was too drunk to go home. She bid Jonathan and Sarah goodnight and took her tray upstairs.

 Bernie found Serena wrapped in a towel, lying on one of the beds, her arm over her eyes.

 “Hey” said Bernie, trying not to look at Serena’s body. “Coffee’s up”

 “Thanks. I don’t suppose you’d have a T-shirt or something I could wear, would you? I’d  keep my shirt on but someone spilled beer on me and it smells awful”.

 “Uh..yes, of course”, replied Bernie, putting down the tray and going to her backpack where she found a clean, orange T-shirt bearing a logo and the words “Be my MATE (Moroccan Association of Teachers of English). Serena half sat up and pulled the towel off. Bernie just had time to see she was wearing black lacy knickers before she turned her head away to avoid looking at Serena’s breasts. Bleary-eyed though she was, Serena was amused to see Bernie’s reaction.

 “Quite the gentleman, Cowboy”, she taunted. “A few minutes ago you were snogging me senseless, now you’re too embarrassed to see me change”.

 She got unsteadily up off the bed to take the towel back to the bathroom, now clad in the T-shirt which fell below her hips but hugged her breasts tightly, staggering and holding the wall for support. Bernie got to her quickly and took the towel, helping her back to the bed.

 “Get into bed and drink some of this coffee”.

 While Serena drank coffee and water and took the paracetamols Bernie had laid out for her, Bernie washed her face, brushed her teeth and removed all her clothes except her knickers and her cotton shirt and got into the other bed. She had turned off the main light, leaving just the reading lamp, which cast shadows over the room. She lay still, eyes closed, but her head was spinning and she felt anxiety clawing at her. She tried shifting position, but the spiders in her brain wouldn’t let up.

 “Bernie, are you OK?” asked Serena

 “No, it’s the  hash messing with my brain, combined with the beer”, Bernie replied through gritted teeth. “Those damn biscuits, they call them _mahjoun_ …it's a hash mix, I should have known”.

 “Thank God no one offered it to me!  What can I do?”

 “I don’t know…talk to me”, said Bernie, shifting herself into a sitting position and taking a sip of coffee.

 Serena turned to look at her, the chocolate warmth of her eyes mesmerising Bernie in her state of heightened anxiety. Bernie felt another surge of wetness in her knickers, and squeezed her thighs together to try to push it out of her mind. This had never happened to her before. She felt she should go and take a cold shower, but she couldn’t be bothered to move.

 "Why do you think that redhead hit on me?” asked Serena. “Do I give off lesbian vibes or something”.

 “No, er, I mean, I don’t know”, said Bernie. “Maybe it’s that air of vulnerability you have, especially when drunk! They were taking advantage anyway, that much is obvious. Serena, do you think I look like a lesbian? Is that why Siân asked me to go and rescue you?”

 “I think you look amazing,” said Serena, babbling, “and I LOVE that waistcoat, even if Siân did make a few sarcastic comments about it, and the way your jeans fit and your sexy shirt. I’m jealous, I wish I looked like that in jeans.”

 “Are you evading the question?”

 “No, well, that is to say……you shouldn’t take any notice of Siân, she’s a wind-up merchant.”

 “Why do I get the feeling there’s something you’re not saying here? She definitely had an agenda, pushing me to go and rescue you. Surely you were aware of that, especially when she left you with me, like she, I don’t know…. _expected_ me to take care of you.”

 Serena blushed but her honesty won out. “Actually, she has this theory that most people are probably bisexual…she keeps going on about experimenting. Perhaps she thought you umm… I mean …”

 “..would be the person to experiment with?" Bernie finished.

 “Something like that. But Bernie, please believe me when I say I had no such intention. I’m just so grateful that you got me out of that mess- I was too drunk at that point to put up much resistance to that pushy bitch. And you’re a great kisser, by the way!”

 Now it was Bernie’s turn to blush.

 “It just seemed to be a good idea at the time”, she said warily. “Did the trick anyway”.

 “It was nice, really nice, you smell so good- and you certainly had me fooled”, said Serena. “Anyone looking would have thought we were genuine, well, they did, think that and….oh, I’m going to  shut up, I’m still drunk”.

 Bernie did not reply. She felt warm and tingly, her nipples were pushing through her shirt and her clit was throbbing painfully. She dared not move, just lay with her eyes closed, her discomfort evident.

 “You look so uncomfortable”, said Serena suddenly, scrambling out of her bed and crossing the space between them before Bernie could react. Lifting the covers, Serena was sliding in next to Bernie and wrapping her arm around Bernie’s waist, her cropped head resting on Bernie’s breast, inhaling her scent.

 “Relax, Cowboy, you just need a cuddle and those spiders will go back into their box”.

 Bernie felt her muscles relaxing as she melted into Serena, her self-control slipping away but unable to fight it any longer.

 “Turn out the light”, whispered Serena, “and kiss me again”.

 *********

Bernie woke at 5.30 am. The light was beginning to seep through the window blinds and she could hear the muezzin calling the faithful for the dawn prayer. She became aware with a jolt that she was naked from the waist down, lying on her back with one leg and one arm outside the covers. Shivering, she reached for the covers, which were trapped around and under a sleeping Serena. As Bernie shifted her weight to get the blankets free, Serena suddenly rolled over and onto her side, facing away from Bernie. Bernie lay quietly for a moment, the warm scent of sex coming from under the bedclothes, a sticky feeling between her thighs, then the reality of her situation made her slide silently out of the narrow bed and seek refuge in the bathroom, scooping up her discarded underwear en route.

The bathroom was cavernous and chilly in the early light of dawn. The haunting sound of the muezzin came in on the still, silent air through the open window. Bernie perched on the side of the bidet. Christ, what had she been thinking? The fuzziness of the previous evening, the magical mist provided by the combination of hashish and alcohol was dissipating, and in its place was embarrassment. Images came back to her –  turning to kiss Serena, moaning in relief, Serena’s knee sliding between Bernie’s legs, feeling Bernie’s wetness on her thigh, her exclamation of surprise. Then Bernie’s hands and mouth on Serena’s beautiful breasts, sucking and rolling her nipples, Serena moaning her name, holding her head down- Bernie cringed in shame, cowering in the cold bathroom. Finally, she got up, used the toilet and the bidet to rinse off the stickiness, then brushed her teeth to rid herself of the aftertaste of cigarettes and beer. She couldn’t put her underwear back on, so she soaped and washed out the knickers and hung them on the shower rail to dry. She tiptoed back into the bedroom and climbed into the other bed, pulling the covers tightly over her head. Serena slept on.

Bernie tried to go back to sleep, but more images kept coming. From Serena’s breasts she had kissed and nibbled her way down, drinking in the sweet musky smell of Serena. When she reached Serena’s navel she had paused, suddenly wary of breaching the final barrier. Serena whimpered and pulled her back up, mouth to mouth again, her breasts and hips a perfect fit for Bernie’s longer, slimmer body shape. Bernie was writhing against her, trying desperately to get the friction she needed, finding it suddenly when she slipped to the side and her sex ground on Serena’s thigh. Serena gasped with awareness and then she took Bernie’s hand and pushed it down between their bodies until Bernie’s fingers were touching the lacy material of Serena’s knickers and the stray curls poking out. Unable to hold back any longer, Bernie cupped Serena, stroking lightly through the fabric, feeling the nub of her clit and the wetness suddenly blossoming on her fingers. Serena was panting now, pushing down impatiently with her hands, ridding herself of the knickers, and then she did the same to Bernie, pushing her underwear down so that Bernie’s sex now made direct contact with Serena’s thigh. Bernie caressed Serena’s swollen mound gently and carefully, running her finger through the wetness and around and over her clit several times. Serena was squirming on Bernie’s fingers and suddenly Bernie had sunk one then two fingers inside, and Serena was crying out. “Shh”, Bernie whispered, putting her hand over Serena’s  mouth, “bite my shoulder”, and as she increased the pressure of her strokes, withdrawing more each time and sliding her thumb  over her clit, only to push back inside, curling her fingers slightly, it took only a few more seconds for Serena to bite down hard on Bernie’s shoulder, breaking the skin as her vaginal walls contracted around Bernie’s fingers, a sensation which finally pushed  Bernie, grinding harder and harder on Serena’s thigh, over the edge with a huge rush, white light exploding behind her eyes, the spiders scattering madly in all directions.

The images came back to Bernie like movie clips, watching with a mingled feeling of horror and arousal. Serena had been drunk- what if she woke up and didn’t want to admit what they had done? Or worse, accused Bernie of taking advantage of her? Bernie felt cold and nauseous just thinking about it. At the same time, how could she forget that as they lay together side by side, panting, Serena had put her hand lightly on Bernie’s still wet curls and said wonderingly “Wow you’re so wet! Did you really come?”

“Yes”, whispered Bernie, bringing her hand up to her nose to smell Serena on her fingers, inhaling deeply.

 “I’ve never come like that before”, Serena confessed. “God, you hardly touched me.”

 “Have you done this before- with a woman, I mean?”

 “No”, Bernie admitted. “What about you?”

 “No, good lord, no”, said Serena. “I’m straight, whatever Siân may think. I have a boyfriend back in England. But the weird thing is, it takes much longer to come with him. Maybe I should get drunk more often! Or a new boyfriend, ha ha!”

Bernie felt suddenly deflated. How could she tell Serena that the moment they kissed she had suddenly understood the logic of it, that the world had somehow shifted and slotted properly into place and she with it? That touching Serena had been the most natural thing she had ever done, that without any guidance, she had known exactly what Serena had needed? So she was silent.

 “We should get some sleep”, said Serena, “but don’t run away. You’re so warm, please just stay here and hold me.”

*****

When Serena awoke later in the morning, it was to find Bernie already showered and dressed for the day in her jeans and desert boots, with a striped, long sleeved top under a khaki army-style jacket. She was standing by the other bed, which showed signs of having been recently inhabited. Serena looked at it and at Bernie without comment.

 “I’ll go and organise breakfast”, said Bernie, trying not to look at Serena, adorable in the tight orange T-shirt with her dark, tousled hair. She wanted to get out of the room before Serena became aware of her semi-nakedness and her knickers on the floor, and before the urge to jump back into bed with her became unstoppable.

 “Are you sure that’s OK?” asked Serena. “I mean, we could go to the café, no need to bother Jonathan and Sarah”.

 “I’m sure it’s fine”, said Bernie. “They planned to have several of us staying over in any case”.

Conversation over breakfast was limited because of the other people. Serena was charming but as soon as she could, she made  excuses to leave. Despite her crippling embarrassment, Bernie was reluctant to let her go.

 “Um….didn’t Siân say not to go back too early?” she asked, as they stood outside on the doorstep, she unconsciously rubbing the sore bite mark on her shoulder, now hidden by her top.

 “Oh, don’t worry, she never keeps them longer than she needs. And they’re probably keen to escape in any case”, Serena laughed. Then she suddenly realised she was still wearing Bernie’s T-shirt-

 “Oh, look, how can I get this back to you? When are you leaving Casa?”

 “Don’t worry about it, Serena. Just keep it, OK? Souvenir”, she added drily.

 “Sure? Well thanks, although I hardly think I’ll be forgetting last night in a hurry.” She noticed Bernie’s grimace as she rubbed the sore spot. “Oh your poor shoulder, I’m so sorry!”

 Bernie did not reply, she felt her throat aching with unshed tears and the force of her desire to hold Serena again. Serena leaned forward and kissed Bernie softly on the cheek.

 “Bye bye, Bernie. I’m sorry you had to deal with me being drunk. You’re a sweetheart. Maybe we’ll bump into each other again one day?”

 Bernie said nothing, but stepped away from Serena and gave her a little wave, and then Serena was gone, raising her hand to flag down a passing taxi.

*****

 As predicted, Siân was alone when Serena arrived at their shared apartment. Sitting on the sofa in a pale blue  silk robe, she was carefully painting her nails. She looked up as Serena came through the door.

 “Well, well, if it isn’t the Shiraz Queen. How’s the head? Or is that not your main focus right now? Did you manage to lose your Sapphic cherry?”

 Serena flushed with embarrassment and slumped in a chair.

 “Am I to assume that’s a correct description of events? Charming T-shirt by the way. Must be one of Cowboy’s”.

 “Don’t call her that. She’s adorable. Much moreso than you could imagine. And yes, I suppose, in a manner of speaking, that is correct”.

 “Oh, do tell all!” Siân dropped the pose and leaned forward in anticipation.

 “Not much to tell. We snogged, as you saw yourself- “

 “-and VERY impressive that was!” interjected Siân.

  “-and went to bed and-“

 “fucked?”

 Serena thought for a moment. She supposed that semantically speaking “fucked” was one way of describing what they had done, but it failed to encompass the overpowering blend of lust and tenderness that Serena had experienced. What was wrong with her? This was a one night stand, for God’s sake. You fucked on one-night stands, whether it was male or female. You could hardly call it “making love”. But “making love” was somehow so much closer to how she had felt it. She was suddenly utterly bereft- she had met this gorgeous woman who had treated her like someone special, who fitted with her as no man had ever done, and she had let her get away- no contact details, nothing. She hesitated too long-

 “Oh Serena, don’t come the lovesick puppy with me. This was an experiment, that’s all. Tell me what happened. Did she go down on you? Did you go down on her?”

 “Siân, for God’s sake! No, nothing like that”.

 “Fingers?” Serena nodded mutely.

 “Orgasms? Both?” Serena nodded again

 **“** Would you do it again?”

 “Possibly”.

 **“** So, all hail bisexual Serena! And what about Tommy?”

 “Tommy will be fine. I’m thinking of dumping him anyway”.

 “Oh-not up to Cowboy’s standards, eh?”

 Serena blushed but didn’t reply.

 “My, my, you have got it bad. So when are you seeing her again?”

 “I’m not. It was, as you said, a one night stand. She didn't seem to want to see me again. Even told me to keep the T-shirt.”

 Siân was sceptical. “If she’s so wonderful, why did you let her get away?”

 Yes, why did I? thought Serena.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Amuse-bouche = finger food delicacies (French, literally- entertain the mouth)  
> Toujours la meme histoire= same old story (French)  
> Va te faire foutre= "Fuck Off" (French)  
> Laisse-la, elle est à moi!= "Leave her alone, she's mine" (French)  
> Foutre le camp ="get out of here" (French, slang)


	2. Arrival

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bernie arrives at Holby City International English Centre for her first day and tries to get to grips with her new job and new colleagues.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a fairly lengthy chapter to set the scene and lay the groundwork for later chapters. After this, chapters will be shorter. Do please comment and let me know whether this is making you want to read on!

**April 2016**

Unlocking her car, Bernie Wolfe throws her new umbrella (a gift from her son, Cameron) onto the back seat and tosses her battered briefcase on top of it. She is late for the first day in her new job. Before starting the engine, she pulls down the mirror on her sun-blind and runs her fingers quickly through her tousled hair, fumbling with an ancient lipstick she finds in the bottom of her bag. Rubbing her lips together and wiping off stray smears she mutters “that’ll have to do” as she starts the car and moves off.

 Holby International English Centre is a 20 minute drive away from her house, and the job an amazing slice of luck.  At 51, Bernie is under no illusions about her job prospects- language centres in the UK tend to prefer younger candidates lower down the salary scale, even for management posts in many cases - but HIEC is now desperate to replace Dr. Sacha Levy, their Head of Teacher Training, hospitalised after a nervous breakdown a month ago, and Bernie is more than qualified to step into his shoes.

 HIEC is affiliated with Holby University but has its own building and private car park a short distance from the main campus. As Bernie pulls in she sees an empty space reserved for Management and parks quickly. The day is misty, cool and cloudy with a promise of rain, or so her weather app says (but when was the UK ever much different? thinks Bernie), leaving the umbrella in the car and rushing towards the main entrance, locking the car as she runs. Pushing the glass door open too forcefully, the momentum sends her almost crashing into a young man crossing the foyer holding 2 paper coffee cups.

 “Careful!” he squeaks, trying not to drop them, but splashing coffee over his tight black jeans and suede boots.

 “Sorry”, Bernie comes to a halt and holds up her hands, as the young man wobbles but manages to keep hold of his coffee, while dropping a file he is holding under his arm. Bernie stoops to pick it up.

 “Whoops, sorry about that,” she says, proffering the file. “I’m a bit late. Can you tell me where Ric Griffin’s office is?”

 “First floor next to the Teachers’ Room”, says the man. “But you need to check in with Reception first, over there”.

 “Ok thanks”, says Bernie, still holding out the file. The young man then lifts his arm for her to wedge it underneath, saying with studied casualness,

 “And you would be?”

 “Um..Bernie Wolfe.. new Teacher Training Co-Ordinator”.

 “Oh right! he exclaims. “I’m glad they found someone so quickly or we’d be screwed. I’m doing my TESOL Diploma and Sacha’s my tutor. The practical exam is in a month so we need help to prep for that and get our assignments all finished. I’m Dom, by the way.” He gives her a quirky smile, his eyes showing warmth and interest.

 At that moment the lift doors open and Dom turns with a nod of his head in their direction.  “Gotta go and get psyched up for my Beginners class”, he grins. “See you later!”

 “Nice to meet you, Dom”, and Bernie hastens to the Reception area, where Fletch, the Registrar, in dark shirt and tie, is standing watching her, hands on hips

 “Well look who’s late for her first day, tut tut  Berenice”, he smirks cheekily.

  It’s not the first time they have met- Bernie was here the previous week for her interview, but she feels herself blushing.

 “ Bernie will do just fine. Could you please tell Ric Griffin I’m here?”

“Grab a pew” says Fletch.

 Bernie sinks hesitantly onto a chair trying to take in her surroundings. Fletch turns his back and murmurs something into the telephone. The conversation seems to go on for longer than the occasion warrants. Bernie looks at the other people in the room, all apparently glued to their computer screens, but sneaking sly peeks at her from time to time.

 Fletcher turns back to her, a broad smile on his face.

 “Serena, the Director of Studies, was supposed to be here to greet you, but she’s been delayed overseas. She’ll be back tomorrow. In the meantime, Jasmine will come to collect you”.

Before he finishes speaking, a young woman with a sweet smile and baby blue eyes comes into the room and holds her hand out.

 “Jasmine Burrows, Serena’s Assistant,  welcome to HIEC”.

 Bernie shakes her hand and they head for the lift.

 “I understand you’ve been recovering from an injury,” Jasmine says. “Are you OK now?”

 “I’m perfectly fit to work” says Bernie rather abruptly.

 “Oh I didn’t mean to offend you. You see, Jac Naylor’s my sister and she told me how she bumped into you in the hospital when she was visiting Sacha, and recommended you for this job when we knew Sacha wasn’t coming back. She told me how you got blown up in an accident in Afghanistan and needed major surgery. I was just hoping you weren’t still in pain or anything”.

 “Ah”, says Bernie, adding a few pieces to the relationship jigsaw. “I’m a bit stiff, my back especially, so I tend to sit down in class more than I used to, but that’s not really a problem. And I have painkillers” she tapped her bag “and a few shots of caffeine do the trick most days to get me going”.

 Jasmine gives her a conspiratorial smile. “Serena has a really fancy coffee machine, so if you’re nice to her, you could avoid that walk down to Pulses Café each time you need a fix!”

 By this point they have reached a door marked “Operations Manager” and Ric rises to meet her, glancing not so surreptitiously at his watch.

 “Berenice”, he greets her, “better late than never. Nice to see you again.” 

 Ignoring the dig, Bernie holds out her hand.

 “Bernie, please, and nice to see you, too.”

 “OK, Bernie have a seat. Coffee?”

 Jasmine, still in the room, makes a signal that Bernie should accept, pointing at the office adjoining Ric’s which has a plaque saying “Director of Studies” on it.

 “Umm, yes please, that sounds good. Double espresso, if that’s OK. No sugar”.

 Ric holds up two fingers to show he‘s joining her, and Jasmine disappears into Serena’s office.

 “Look, I’m sorry Serena’s not here today- I told you last week in the interview that she was away-she went to visit agents in Italy, and her flight was cancelled due to bad weather. She’ll be back tomorrow. So I’m afraid you’ll have to put up with me today”.

 “Ok, no problem,” says Bernie, digesting this information. “Er what do you mean- visiting agents?”

 “Ah, yes, of course, you’ve spent most of your career abroad, NGOs, projects and the like, so you might not be familiar with how TESOL works here in the UK- thank you, Jasmine”, as the young woman deposits a tray of coffee on his desk, and he gestures to Bernie to help herself.

 “Are there any more of those pistachio and almond biscuits?” Ric calls to Jasmine, who is going back into Serena’s office.

 “Here”, says Jasmine, bringing out a packet marked “Harrods” and extracting 4 which she puts on a saucer “But don’t tell her I gave them to you, OK”.

 Ric’s eyes twinkle, but then he steeples his hands and gets back to business.

 “As we discussed in the interview last week, HIEC has three main areas of business- firstly, it is the language centre affiliated to Holby University, so we run the pre-sessional English courses for their overseas students and the in-sessional Academic English Support programmes. That’s Jac’s job, she’s Academic Programme Manager. Then we provide General and Business English courses to people in the community and people from overseas who come here to learn English. We do this year round, but we have a much expanded programme in the summer, when we use the university facilities and open our doors to hundreds of international visitors. For this we  hire additional staff and we have external programme managers coming in. Serena, as Director of Studies, is in charge of this, together with Raf Di Lucca, the Senior Teacher. To ensure we can fill our places, we work with language travel agents overseas, mostly in Europe. Serena is also Head of Business Development so she has to manage the overseas agent network, and usually goes out on tour once or twice a year to do that.

 Thirdly, we have Teacher Development- your area, that is to run in-house training for our contract and part-time teachers and also external teacher training programmes such as the CELTA, DELTA and so on. When Sacha was taken ill, we had just got the Board’s approval to run overseas Projects. We’re hoping that with your experience, you will be able to help us bid for overseas teacher training projects and then lead those teams.”

 Bernie feels excited by this. So maybe her job wouldn’t be all dull, classroom-based  stuff after all. “That sounds really exciting”, she says, draining her coffee and feeling a surge of energy.

“When would this start?”

 “Well, bidding needs to begin right away- we’ve already lost a month. Serena and Jac have  been evaluating the potential projects, so they will brief you tomorrow.”

 “Ok, so now it’s 9.30 and I told the teachers you’d go in and introduce yourself during the break. Shall we?”

 Entering the teachers’ room with Ric, Bernie gets the vibe immediately of a happy and productive workplace. Teachers are chatting in groups, seated on desks, laughing and seemingly at ease with one another. Ric calls for silence, and everyone turns around and looks at Bernie, who stands confidently in front of them. Out of the corner of her eye Bernie can see Dom, sleeves of his fitted, burgundy corduroy shirt rolled up, tie fashionably askew, standing next to a pretty young woman in a turquoise top who keeps whispering in his ear.

 “OK people, this is our new Teacher Training Coordinator, Dr. Berenice Wolfe. We’re really lucky to get her so soon after Sacha’s unfortunate departure. She has a wealth of experience that will immeasurably enrich our Centre and also contribute to strengthening our overseas profile as a leading TESOL training provider. I’ll let her introduce herself, and then she can draw up a schedule to talk with each of you about your current training situation”.

 Bernie smiles. “I’m really glad to be here- HIEC has an excellent reputation and I count myself lucky to be working with you all. First things first, please call me Bernie. I want to get to know you all as soon as possible, so let’s get the introductions out of the way. I suggest you sit, it will be more comfortable”, and with that she perches elegantly on the edge of a table, swinging her long legs in the skinny jeans. Ric smiles to himself and leaves the room. The teachers sit down and the atmosphere immediately goes into a more relaxed mode.

 “Is it true that Sacha isn’t coming back?” asks Dom’s companion.

 “As far as I am aware, Mr. Levy is still hospitalised and has requested to take early retirement”, said Bernie. “But Mr. Griffin would be best placed to confirm the truth of that. While we’re talking, please feel free to ask me questions, and introduce yourself at the same time and give me a bit of background”.

 “Morven Digby”, said the young woman. “I’m in my third year here and also doing the DELTA course. I have a degree in Environmental Science and before I got into TESOL I did a year after graduation in Botswana with VSO. “

 Dom raises his hand.

 “Dominic Copeland”, he says, “I’m in my 4th year of teaching. I first trained as a nurse then I started working on Community projects with migrants and switched to TESOL. I’m now just finishing my DELTA. Bernie, is it true that you were working in Afghanistan and got blown up by an IED?”

 Bernie feels the colour rising to her cheeks, Jac Naylor be damned, she thinks, but is determined to answer all their questions in a straightforward way.

 “Yes, I was doing teacher training for the Ministry of Education in Afghanistan and while it wasn’t usually dangerous in Kabul, I had to go into Helmand province once with the military and that’s when it happened”.

 “Wow!” says a plump, giggly young woman in a red sweater, “you must be really brave-“

 “-or extremely foolish”, comes a voice from the door, and Jac Naylor strolls in, as lithe and silent as a cat, cup and saucer in hand.

 Bernie throws her a glance and decides not to rise to the bait. “Foolish is probably right. They asked for volunteers and I was a shoo-in. Always wanted to visit Kandahar!”

 “Oh, do you two know each other?” asks Dom, eyebrows raised somewhat disingenuously.

 “Colleagues back in the day”, says Jac, not elaborating, “and when I saw the famous Berenice Wolfe in Holby City hospital all patched up from her IED adventure, I suggested she’d be a lot safer coming here and training you lot.”.

 Bernie can feel the colour rising in her cheeks. Partly annoyed with Jac for gate-crashing her introduction to her new work-mates, she is also embarrassed at being singled out as some sort of action woman heroine, even if the remark is intended sarcastically.

 A man in a navy shirt with vivid blue eyes stands and raises his hand.

 “Oliver Valentine, ESP Co-ordinator. Bernie, will you also be teaching at the university on the MA TESOL course, as Jac and Serena do?”

 “Um..I’m not sure about that yet. My contract says something about it but it hasn’t been clarified. “

 “I’m asking because I’m on that course and the Teacher Education module is being covered by 2 different lecturers, neither of whom are specialists in that area. You’d be a breath of fresh air compared with them!”

 “Ok, good to know. I’ll follow it up”, says Bernie, looking over at Jac to see whether there is any response from her to that.

 “Good point, Valentine. I believe there’s a meeting of the MA co-ordinators tomorrow to discuss some restructuring, so we should have an answer then”, and with that Jac saunters out of the room, just as another person enters.

 Bernie wants to get back to business “OK, enough about me, let’s start making individual appointments”.

 The latest arrival steps forward, his hand partly raised.

 “Hi, I’m Raf Di Lucca, Senior Teacher. Thought you should know that these guys here are just the contract teachers. We also have a number of part-timers, mostly postgrads from the Linguistics and TESOL Departments over the road at the Uni. I’ll arrange to get them in to meet you tomorrow if that’s OK”.

 “Fine”, says Bernie, smiling warmly at Raf, whom she remembers Ric Griffin describing as “Serena’s right-hand man”.

 The morning passes quickly and by lunchtime Bernie is fading.  She slept badly the previous night, nervous about whether the teachers would accept her authority so soon on the heels of Sacha, who had been in the post for over 20 years and seemed to be immensely popular.  To make matters worse, she is still living in Marcus’ house while she looks for a flat, and since they have agreed to divorce, this is anything but comfortable. Her daughter is still not speaking to her and has gone off to university without leaving a forwarding address. The pain she still experiences as a result of her recent surgery is aggravated by stress, and all Bernie feels like doing is lying down somewhere and resting. Not really an option. Ric has shown her a small office that he says is “temporary” while they make adjustments to the building, and she finds her way back there and all but collapses in the armchair. She has only been there a few minutes, eyes closed, when a knock on the door rouses her and Jasmine sticks her head round it.

 “I don’t know what your plans for lunch are, but we usually go down to Pulses. They have soups, salads and sandwiches. Would you like to come with me?”

 “I don't suppose  you could just bring me a sandwich, could you? That would be perfect”.

 “No problem at all,” said Jasmine. “Any preference for the sandwich? Chicken? Tuna? Cheese? BLT? Whole wheat or ciabatta?

 “BLT on wholewheat,  no mayo, please”.

 “OK I’ll be back in a tic and then I can make you a nice cup of tea”.

 No sooner has she finished her lunch and settled into a ten-minute power nap than Jac Naylor appears again.

 “So, they’ve put you in the cubby-hole, eh?”, she enters without knocking and leans back  against the desk, arms folded, a satisfied smirk on her face.

 “Bloody hell, Naylor, I was just dozing nicely”, protests Bernie.

 “What, not up to it Wolfe? I told you to make them wait another couple of weeks while you recovered properly. Can’t have the head of Teacher Training wimping out when the going gets tough”.

 “I don’t do “wimping out”, Naylor. Besides, with the DELTA finals so close someone has to get the candidates up to speed.”

 “True” says Jac, thoughtfully. Bernie can see the cogs turning.

 “I was right when I recommended you to Hanssen. You could be useful for us, Wolfe, with all that energetic stuff you’ve done in war zones etc., that’s exactly the kind of thing this place needs to shake everyone up and show them how to compete in the global marketplace.”

 Bernie sits up to protest and opens her mouth. Jac holds up a hand.

 “You know that there’s lots of money available now for training English teachers in developing countries, it’s all part of ‘Poverty Alleviation’ and ‘Capacity Building’ and 'Technology Transfer'- you’d know all about that! Overfed westerners rushing around in SUVs, attending cocktail parties, bringing their superior wisdom to the poor, downtrodden peasants of the Third World, right?”

 Bernie manages a small smile.

 “Those contracts used to go through DFID,  but now it’s all on the open market. We need to start bidding. Sacha, bless him, was hardly the man to do that. In fact, it may have been the prospect of change that triggered his nervous breakdown.”

 “What about Serena Campbell, the DOS? Isn’t that her patch?”

 “Campbell? Give me a break! When you were toiling away in malarial hell-holes with squat toilets and no A/C, Campbell was living it up in Cannes or Casablanca or some such flesh-pot. She couldn’t survive five minutes without a crate of Shiraz and a change of Christian Louboutins. She may have a Harvard MBA, but Kate Adie she most definitely is not. Can’t see _her_ trying to pull punters in Kandahar, ha ha!” and Jac pauses to wipe her eyes before continuing in the same sarcastic tone.

 “And I’m assuming here," she adds, “that like most of you  philanthropic types you _did_ do VSO after graduation?”

 Bernie nods.

 "And where _was_ that, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Sudan.”

 “Well there you go!!” Jac says smugly.

 “So”, Bernie cuts in, “what’s she actually like, Serena, as a boss, I mean?”

 Jac is not known for her compliments, but one thing she can’t be faulted on is her honesty.

 “Oh, once you get past the glitz, Campbell’s a pretty good boss. She’s sharp, organised and generally fair. OK, so she has a weakness for leopard print blouses and loud lipsticks, not to mention designer heels, but the students love her and Hanssen practically worships at her altar. Come to think of it, with her business brain and sharp appearance and your developing world experience, you’d make a good bidding team. In fact, if my memory serves me correctly, she told me once that she actually did a stint in Casablanca, and I don’t think she meant the movie. So maybe she can rough it a bit after all.”

 “Casablanca’s hardly roughing it”, Bernie laughs,  as Jac does an eye-roll, “I was in Morocco- out in the sticks-in the late ‘80’s on a textbook writing project. We used to go to Casa for r’n’ r and home comforts”.

 “Well there’s a coincidence, you might even have crossed paths with the lovely Serena!”

 Bernie goes quiet, a sudden memory coming to her …. Serena, surely that wasn’t such an uncommon name?

 “I seriously doubt that. Anyway,” getting up stiffly, “time to go back to work. Now bugger off, Naylor.”

 After that, the rest of the day passes quickly and productively. Bernie sets up her office computer, observes a lesson with the giggly young probationary teacher, Nicky McKendrick,  books individual slots for the DELTA candidates and sets the new schedule for their supervision. Ric keeps his door open and his ears perked, smiling to himself every now and then. As she is about to leave at 5 pm, Henrik Hanssen, the CEO, suddenly appears in the corridor like a phantom. Bernie starts in surprise.

 “Ah Ms Wolfe- before you go, I just wanted to check on how everything went today”.

 “Um .. fine, really good”, said Bernie. “Very positive vibes from the contract teachers, and I think everything is on track for the day to day stuff.”

 “Quite”, said Hanssen, “so I suggest we pencil in an appointment first thing with Serena when she gets back tomorrow”.

 “Yes, absolutely”, says Bernie, uncertain whether she is supposed to say anything else.

 “There is one thing…” Hanssen hesitates and, not quite meeting her gaze, continues.

 “I keep my hand in with a bit of teaching now and then, you know. Can’t get stale, after all. I run quite a popular Esperanto class at lunchtimes on Wednesdays if you’d like to come along. Never too late to learn a new language, I always say. Your predecessor was most keen on it”.

 “Really?” says Bernie wondering what the hell use Esperanto would be to her or anyone else for that matter.

 “I’ll, er, bear that in mind, thank you, Mr Hanssen”.

 “Oh I think we can be Bernie and Henrik when we’re on our own don’t you” he replies, with a twinkle in his eye, and departs, leaving Bernie with her mouth open in astonishment.

 As she makes to exit the building, the heavens have opened and she gets soaked running to her car, where her new umbrella sits, dry and unused on the back seat.

 

********

**Holby City airport, 19.00**

Serena is first off the EasyJet flight from Milano Malpensa Airport, keen to grab her luggage and get home, but as she hurries into the terminal, her phone starts ringing.

“Campbell,”

 “Serena, are you back?”, asks Raf.

 “Just landed. Why, what’s up?” she asks, trying to get to into the shortest queue for the passport scanners.

 “The new Teacher Training Coordinator started today”, says Raf.

 “Yes, I’m aware of that. What’s she like?”

 “Well she’s no Sacha, that’s for sure!”

 “Meaning?” asks Serena, somewhat exasperated at people who couldn’t get to the point.

 “Meaning she could be what we need for those international bids”, says Raf. “She’s got massive developing world experience- war zones and all.“

 “Yes, I did approve her CV before they made her the offer.”

 “She’s also …er, very easy on the eye. “Super hot” seems to be the general consensus!”

 “Watch yourself, Raf, I believe she’s my age. I never saw you as toy boy material”.

 “No, it was one of the younger female teachers I overheard making that remark!”.

 “I see.” A pause. “Look, Raf, I’m in the passport queue, so I’ll see you tomorrow, OK?”

  _Hmm, this could be interesting,_ thinks Serena, grabbing her bright red Louis Vuitton wheeled case from the conveyor and heading for the taxi stand.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ESP- English for Specific Purposes  
> DFID- Dept. for International Development (UK government)  
> VSO- Voluntary Service Overseas


	3. This Is The Day Your Life Will Surely Change, Part One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day Two for Bernie, who finally gets to meet her boss, Serena, but also gets a lot more than she bargained for.  
> Song for the chapter is "This Is The Day" by TheThe.

At precisely 8.15 am, Serena Campbell joins the queue at Pulses and sees Raf pulling away from the counter with 2 takeaway cups. He smiles "hello" and casts an eye appreciatively over her sharp black suit and flame red silk blouse which  matches her lipstick.

 “New hair?", he asks, in a parody of  the language learners, as Serena pats the back of her head self-consciously. 

 “I found a rather nice little salon in the backstreets of Milan”, she confesses. “Much cheaper than my hairdresser in the UK, too. So, are we all ready for the meeting this morning?”

 “Yes, I think so- oh look, here’s our new colleague”, nodding with his head to the end of the queue. Serena turns around, catching a glimpse of messy blonde hair on a tall woman whose face is averted as she talks animatedly into her phone. Serena squints, hoping for a better view without being observed, and as she does so, the woman drops her phone into her bag and looks up at the menu board, giving Serena a clear view of her face.

 “Oh”, Serena says, her heart suddenly beating faster, “right. Well, don’t let me keep you, I’m sure Essie wants her coffee before it gets cold”.

 Raf moves off, smiling and greeting Bernie as he passes her. Bernie looks at her watch. 8.23, Christ, she doesn’t want to be late again. Wishes they’d get a move on. Three people in front of her obviously share her concern  and leave in a hurry, so Bernie  is now almost at the head of the queue, just a woman in a smart suit in front of her. She fumbles in her bag to find the right change as the woman places her order.

 “Double shot skinny cappuccino, quick as you can”, she says, putting down some coins, and, turning slightly to Bernie,  “Do you remember when coffee was just coffee?”

 “Ha, yes”, replies Bernie, head down, fiddling with an unfamiliar chunky  coin,  "and when pound coins only came in single units", she adds, and looks up, because something in the woman’s voice has caught her attention. Serena chooses the same moment to turn to look at her properly. Serena recovers first.

 “You must be our new Teacher Training Co-ordinator, Berenice Wolfe. Serena Campbell”, holding out her hand.

 Bernie is caught with her hand in her purse, brain in a race to catch up with the evidence of her eyes and ears. She lets go of the coins and shakes Serena’s hand.

 “It’s.er. Bernie”, she says, still in shock.

 “Of course it is”, Serena murmurs, turning to collect her coffee. She waits politely while Bernie stumbles out her order – the same as Serena’s except for the skinny part, drops her coins on the floor, picks them up, now flushed with embarrassment, and waits to collect her drink.

 “I hear yesterday went well”, Serena says, opting for a platitude  to defuse the awkwardness.

 “Um..yes, I think it did”, says Bernie, not making eye contact. Finally – how long does it really take to froth milk for God’s sake?-  her coffee is ready. Picking it up she sees that someone has drawn a smiley face on the cup with the words “Have a Nice Day!”

 They walk together towards the lift. Bernie takes a calming breath and launches in.

 “Did you ..um..have a good flight? “

 Serena smiles wistfully as they enter the lift and she presses the button for the first floor.

 “Well it would have been if it hadn’t been delayed – first 24 hours because of a storm, then another 3 hours because of a bomb scare in the terminal.”

 “Ah” is all Bernie can manage.

 Her voice is exactly as Bernie remembers, and her neat, beautifully cut dark hair, and that gesture of patting the back of her head, suddenly so familiar. She smells of something musky and sophisticated. Bernie feels like a mess standing next to her, in her skinny black jeans, black ankle boots and her dark brown leather jacket, her hair all tousled.  She sips coffee to fill the silence.

 As they walk towards the offices, Serena says “where have they put you, by the way?”

 Bernie gestures to the small room which leads off Ric’s larger office.

 “I hope Ric pointed out that it’s just temporary. We’re in the process of building an extension to the management area to make it  more open plan. These small rooms are not really conducive to team work. My door is always open, in any case, if you feel like a chat or a caffeine shot”.

 Bernie glances down at her cup and then at Serena’s. “Ah, why am I buying coffee from Pulses when I have a machine in my office? Simple. There’s no fridge at the moment and I do like my cappuccino in the mornings. Anyway, as I say, feel free. We do have rather a lot of catching up to do”.

 “Er.. yes, yes, we do. Thank you”, says Bernie, as they enter the outer office, Ric standing up to greet them.

 “Oh, you’ve met?  he says.

 “It  appears our paths may have already crossed at some point”, Serena replies.

 Ric’s eyebrows go up. “Is that so? Old pals then?”

 “I wouldn’t go that far….would you, Bernie?”

“Oh, no, no. Just ..just"  she is about to say "ships that passed in the night" but at the last minute changes it to "fleeting acquaintances”.

 “Precisely”, says Serena smoothly, gliding towards her office door. “First meeting- Management team- in 10 minutes, OK?”

 Bernie sinks down in her armchair, cradling her cup. Blast and damnation.  Bernie has often imagined meeting Serena again, rehearsed conversations where she reveals how much their encounter had meant to her. But the Serena of her imagination was the fresh-faced, slightly naïve young woman who had looked at Bernie with open appreciation and told her what a great kisser she was, not this polished fifty year -old with seen-it-all eyes and designer clothes. Bernie feels old, battered and totally at a loss, the past like the Great Wall of China separating her from the present.

 “Come on Wolfe, pull yourself together”, she mutters.

 “Talking to yourself again? You know what they say!”  Jac Naylor materialises in the doorway.

 “Management meeting in 5 minutes in the meeting room on this floor. You OK, Wolfe? Look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

 "Maybe I have.” 

 “Serena? Do you mean I was right about you having met in Casablanca?”

 Bernie nods, unable to think of a cover story.

 “And there's history, I imagine? “

“Just drop it, Naylor. It’s of no importance anyway”.

 “Oh you know me, Wolfe, soul of discretion. Don’t worry, no one will hear it from my lips. Now, chop chop, meeting room”.

*****

“Meeting convened at 8.45 am, chair, Serena Campbell. Those present- Ric Griffin, Jac Naylor, Raf Di Lucca, Bernie Wolfe, -“she pauses as the door opens. “And Henrik Hanssen. Jasmine Burrows taking minutes”.

 “Don’t mind me, just sitting in”, Hanssen says.

 They work through the items on the agenda. Serena reports on signing new agents in Switzerland and Italy, then they move to Sacha’s replacement by Bernie.

 “As I’m sure they’ve made you aware, Bernie, the Project bids are an absolute priority at present. We drew up an initial list of possible projects before Sacha was hospitalised, and it’s been at a standstill for a month.”

 Jac interjects “I wouldn’t say it’s at a standstill exactly- while you’ve been away, Serena, Raf and I have been calculating how many new contract and part-timers would be required if we took some of the current staff out for 3 or 6 months. We haven’t got to naming names or anything yet”.

 “That’s the next thing”, says Ric. “Bernie is due to meet the part-timers this morning, and following that, we have asked for expressions of interest from both contract and part-time staff in volunteering for  overseas projects. We believe it’s an essential part of their development to have this opportunity.” Bernie nods in agreement.

 “So what we hope to get from today’s meetings is a list of people who would like to be considered for this work, and then it will be Bernie’s job to assess them over the next month or so while the bids are being worked on. In that time we can start inducting a few more probationers so that when the time comes we can balance our on and off-site capacity”.

 The meeting then goes on to other matters, including the DELTA exams, which are scheduled for early May. Bernie finds herself writing copious notes, trying to take everything in at once.

 “Do we know yet who the external examiner is?” asks Raf

 “No, afraid not”, says Ric. “They won’t tell us until the last minute”.

 Raf looks glum at this news, and Bernie knows why. Having a heads up on who the external examiner will be is similar to finding out which judge has been assigned to your court case. Raf’s colleagues will be nervous enough as it is, but some names will make them even jumpier.

 Serena walks alongside Bernie on the way to the next meeting.

 “Bit of a rag-tag bunch”, she says, struggling to match Bernie’s stride in her red high heels.

 “Don’t get me wrong, there’s a lot of potential there, but most of them are on the MA TESOL or Applied Linguistics course at the uni and they’re desperate for money, so they take all the pre-sessional classes they can. As a consequence”, she rolls her eyes, “we have them pulling all-nighters to finish their assignments and crawling in all dishevelled and baggy-eyed for their classes”.

 Bernie looks down at her jeans self-consciously, and touches her hair. She is wearing a  white oxford shirt over the jeans, a black camisole under that. Serena reads her gesture and smiles reassuringly.

 “You’re absolutely fine. When I said ‘dishevelled’ you have no idea of the depths to which some of them can sink. There’s no comparison”.

 They turn into the Teachers’ Room and Serena goes to the front, Raf and Bernie flanking her, Jac further to one side. The chatter ceases and heads turn towards the front. As Serena makes the introductions and explains the purpose of the meeting, Bernie sweeps her gaze round the room.

 There are 7 or 8 teachers gathered, giving off a decidedly more casual, less purposeful air than the contract teachers Bernie met the previous day. One or two of the men look unshaven, some- obviously about to go into class- are wearing unironed long sleeved shirts, scruffy ties and dusty chinos. Others are in jeans and an assortment of casual  wear. A couple of the women are chewing gum, and Bernie sees a selection of tattoos and piercings among them. Suddenly, a tall, handsome young man sitting on one of the tables stands up. He is wearing mustard yellow moleskin jeans and a black T-shirt with  “Holby Association of Cunning Linguists” in large white letters across the chest.

 “Serena”, he begins impatiently, “can you confirm that Ms Wolfe will take over the Teacher Education class on the MA? This is the most important module for me, the one I’m basing my dissertation on, and we’ve had no serious input for over a month.”

 Serena is looking at his chest with obvious distaste. She lifts her gaze to his face.

 “Mister Duval”, she begins, emphasising the title, “in the first place this is not the subject of the current meeting. That issue will be addressed in your own faculty meeting later today. Secondly, I believe you are aware that we have a dress code here at HIEC, whatever the folks across the way may allow you to grace their hallowed halls in.”

 Duval looks down at his chest and grins. There are sniggers from some of the male teachers. The women roll their eyes. Serena fixes him with her iciest stare and says “Your attire is not only highly inappropriate and unprofessional in this Centre, it is also deeply offensive to me and to others here. I don’t want to see that T-shirt ever again, do you understand?”

 “Way to go, Zav”, mutters one of the unshaven guys in an Australian accent.

 Xavier is not in the least deterred. Shuffling like a bashful puppy, he grins at Serena showing  perfect  teeth.

 “Come on, Serena, you guys haven’t given me any classes this week, so you can’t expect me to turn up at short notice all suited and booted,” he holds his hands out in appeal. More sniggers.

 Jac steps forward “Cut the crap, Duval”, she says. “You know what Serena means. You’ve got an attitude problem, it’s written all over your chest. If you could keep it in check I might throw a few more classes your way. Failing that, Ric Griffin will be happy to give you your P45”.”

 “Oh, really?” he says, adopting a more belligerent stance. The Australian sitting behind him mutters “Don’t go there, Zav, man”.

 “I’m a bloody good teacher and you know it, Jac. My T-shirt is just a bit of fun, but you guys have no sense of humour. Anyway, from what I hear, it would actually be more appropriate on Ms Wolfe than me”.

 The Australian puts his head in his hands. Bernie goes pale, then bright red when she realises everyone is staring at her, then pale again. She thinks she might faint. There is a shocked silence as the meaning of Duval’s words is computed, then Serena snaps:

 “Ric Griffin’s office, Duval. Now!”

 Xavier gives a resigned shrug and walks towards the door. Serena turns to Jac.

 “You and Raf make appointments for the other teachers to have one to one sessions with Bernie as soon as possible after lunch. Bernie”, she raises her head, “go and wait for me in your office, let us deal with him first”.

 Bernie’s first instinct is flight. She is conscious of Raf’s sympathetic pat on her arm, and of trying to hold her head up as she passes Xavier, who looks at the floor, then she gets into the corridor and races to the bathroom where she locks herself in a cubicle.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> P45 = this refers to a form in the UK & Ireland which signifies termination of employment.


	4. This Is The Day Your Life Will Surely Change, Part Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bernie explains herself to Serena and tries to rebalance after the morning's events.

After her hasty exit from the meeting room, Bernie sits huddled in the toilet cubicle in shock, trying to get her breathing under control. How on earth would Xavier Duval have access to that information?  Ohhhhh – long exhalation.  She gets slowly to her feet, a familiar resignation weighing her down. It’s not enough that one kind of past has hit her in the chest today, this is a double whammy. She spends a few minutes repairing her stoic, expressionless face, and returns, a little hunched, to the office.

 Ric ‘s face betrays his awkwardness as she enters the room.

 “Serena’s waiting for you”, he says. “I’ve sent Duval on his way for now with a warning, but I’m afraid we can’t afford to lose good teachers at the moment, so he’ll be joining the meetings this afternoon”.

 “No problem”, Bernie says. “I’ve had to deal with much worse than him”.

 “If it’s any consolation, Bernie, none of us is here to pass judgement on anyone else’s private life, and everyone- including the other teachers- know that Duval is way out of line. Sadly, as is the way of the world, he can get away with it because he’s smart, a good teacher and often very charming.  But you have my permission to squash the arrogant little sod whenever he jumps out of his box!”

 “Oh, that will be a pleasure”, Bernie retorts as she goes into Serena’s office.

 “Shut the door”, Serena says. She is sitting behind her desk, suit jacket off. Her gaze is soft with concern.  “Have a seat. I think I need a double espresso after that. How about you? “

 “Make that a double whisky and a fag,” Bernie replies. Serena raises her eyebrows a notch and stands up.

 “A shame it’s too early for strong refreshment” she smiles. “OK I’ll make the coffee and then we can go up to the roof for a breath of air”.

The sixth floor roof is a haven of tranquillity, though the April breeze is fresh. Serena minces daintily to a stone bench beside a pillar, sheltered from the wind. Bernie joins her. Both are in shirtsleeves. The wind whips Bernie’s hair across her face and extinguishes the flame of her lighter immediately.

 “Here, allow me”, and Serena cups her hands to protect the flame as Bernie ignites a Marlboro Light. She offers the packet to Serena.

 “No, thanks”, says Serena. “I gave up.”

 “So did I”, says Bernie. “Three times.”

 Serena smiles, then, taking a deep breath she starts in.

 “So, do you mind telling me what all that was about? I take it that Duval outed you in some way, but why?”

 Bernie fixes her gaze on a point in the distance. Not looking at Serena, she inhales, deeply on her cigarette, then says, turning her head to exhale, “I’m in the middle of a messy divorce. My soon to be ex-husband is a doctor at Holby City Hospital, and he teaches at the university as well. He’s a buddy of Professor Guy Self, the Head of the Applied Linguistics Dept.”

 “Oh, I know Guy Self”, says Serena, “unfortunately”.

 “Yes, well, I’ve had overseas postings for the last 25 years on and off so I haven’t had much to do with him, but Marcus made the decision 15 years ago to settle back in the UK – mostly because of the kids’ schooling and because he wanted to pursue his career in Orthopaedics here. He’s quite close to Self. After we started divorce proceedings, he found out from a “well-wisher” that I had had an affair with ...with a woman, when I was in Afghanistan. The divorce got very nasty. I was recovering from the IED- you know I got blown up?” Serena nods, “and in fact I’m still living in his house, but trying to find a place of my own. Marcus took it very badly, he thought that the reason I wanted the divorce was because of the affair with Alex. It wasn’t true. Alex and I broke up before that. The marriage was a sham in any case, it had been going nowhere for years. I think- I thought I was almost through it, finances agreed, etc. but it seems he’s spread the word round his mates at the university because I’m working here now, it’s revenge for the humiliation he thinks I’ve caused him.”

 Serena takes her time to  formulate the next question.

 “And you didn’t think it pertinent to let HR know that there could be this sort of complication?”

 “I never imagined it would be an issue. I’m my own person, I never even used his name. Who would associate Bernie Wolfe with Marcus Dunne?”

 “Guy Self, obviously. You do know, of course, that your post carries some hours teaching on the MA TESOL and that currently this is housed in Guy Self’s Faculty?”

 “Well, I did, yes, but it didn’t seem like a big deal- I mean I would be based here, and he never sets foot in the place according to Marcus”.

 “Right, he wouldn’t deign to cross the car park. He thinks we’re the commercial wing of Linguistics, a bunch of amateurs peddling packaged solutions. But the thing is, Bernie, HIEC just can’t afford a scandal right now. We’re about to break into international projects, we need to create a new revenue stream to keep our head above water. The language travel thing is shrinking year on year, there are too many providers and more and more countries competing to provide courses. Scandinavia, the Netherlands, they all run English courses now, and they can keep costs low- they get government subsidies, whereas we are totally on our own. The uni is cash-strapped like the NHS, we are one of its sources of revenue.”

 “So what do you suggest?” asks Bernie. “I resign?”

 “Good lord, no”, says Serena, putting her hand gently on Bernie’s arm. “You joining us is like winning the lottery. You’re a big gun- all those papers you’ve written, all those cutting -edge projects you’ve worked on. No, you provide us with a massive head start in the project bidding. “

 Bernie is silent, Serena’s hand on her arm is transmitting something, she can feel the tingle, but she dares not look into Serena’s eyes, can’t face what might be there.

 “What I suggest, Bernie, is that you move out of Marcus’ house as soon as possible and don’t give him any more fuel to spread rumours. Then keep your head down and focus on the job at least until the divorce is finalised. Your sexual orientation is of no concern to anyone, but rumours of infidelity can be far more damaging, especially if Marcus has standing in the community. I should know- I’m a fully paid-up member of the embittered ex-wives club. My ex-husband cheated on me with every woman who came within his orbit so I understand the humiliation your ex is feeling”.

 Bernie looks up in astonishment. Has Serena really not understood what she has been saying?

 “Serena, I had just one affair, and it was exceptional, it confirmed for me that being with Marcus, or any man, was wrong. I didn’t want to hurt Marcus, and that wasn’t why I asked him for a divorce. It was just the push I needed to act on what I knew was right. I was outed to Marcus by someone who should have known better, who had no business poking her nose into our business. And it all……it all went pear-shaped from there”.

 Bernie falls silent, her lower lip trembling, her need to hold herself together competing with her hope that Serena will perceive her misery. Serena is clearly uncomfortable.

 “I do sympathise, Bernie, it can’t have been easy to deal with all that, and the IED on top. No one is blaming you, but let’s just find ways of keeping you away from Marcus and Self until the divorce is finalised, hm?”

 Bernie just nods. Her back is hurting. Nights on Marcus’ sofa are doing her no favours, and she knows Serena has a point. Time to move on. She risks a glance at Serena’s face. Her warm, chocolate coloured eyes,  little crinkles at the corners, are studying Bernie with concern. So beautiful, still so stunning, thinks Bernie. She can smell the musky perfume and just discern the outline of breasts under Serena’s silky shirt. Despite everything Bernie can’t suppress a stab of desire. Then she pulls down her shutters and gets to her feet.

 “I understand, Serena, I’ll do everything I can to keep my private life away from HIEC”, and with that she turns and makes her way stiffly back to the door, collecting the coffee cups as she goes. Serena follows thoughtfully.

***

Bernie decides her only course of action for the rest of the day is to brazen it out and see how other people react to her. She heads for Pulses at lunchtime and no sooner has she sat down than she is joined by Essie, head of Finance, who turns out to be Raf’s partner. Essie is warm and welcoming, obviously aware of what has happened but not making a big deal out of it.  They are soon joined by Raf and Fletch, the Registrar, and they ask Bernie questions about her adventures overseas, making jokes and ribbing each other until Bernie is honking with laughter and every one turns around to see where the noise is coming from. It’s a clear message of support for their new colleague, and Bernie feels heartened and strong enough to face the teachers again. There is no sign of Serena.

 Bernie gets through four of the one to one sessions with the part-timers, and finds them all genuinely interesting and intelligent under their scruffy-seeming exterior. She is particularly taken with Frieda, a Ukrainian postgraduate student, who speaks English, Russian and French in addition to her native language, and who seems serious and keen. She puts Frieda on her mental list of teachers she would recommend for the overseas project teams. The lone Australian, Darren (“Call me Daz”) has a good sense of humour and a strong experience record in tough postings.

 “East Timor? Really?” Bernie is delighted. Another tick.

 As he is leaving, Darren offers his hand to Bernie and says “You know, I read all your papers about teaching large classes in under-resourced environments, and it was like, YES, this is what I want to do. I never thought I’d actually get to be taught by the great Dr. Wolfe”.

 Bernie nods in acknowledgement of the compliment and shakes his hand.

 “And a word of advice? Don’t let Zav get under your skin- yeah, he comes across as an arrogant asshole, but he’s really a great teacher, and not a bad guy underneath. We’ll help kick him for you when necessary”.

 Bernie smiles. “Thanks for the advice, but I can do my own kicking”.

 Darren grins. “Sure you can, Major!”.

Major?

 Xavier is the last appointment of the day.

 He comes in sheepishly, a red and white plaid shirt over his T-shirt, buttoned up almost to the neck, just a touch of black visible underneath.

 “Hey, I apologise”, he says. “Didn’t mean to out you in that way.”

 “Don’t worry about it”, says Bernie.  “it’s not a secret. It’s just that I prefer to keep my private life and my work life separate”.

 “I get it, I do,” he says, grinning. “Actually, your old man is a dickhead if he goes around telling everyone – I mean, it makes him look worse, if you get my point.”

 “Well, I’ll cut you a deal”, offers Bernie. “If we agree that you won’t discuss my private life over the road or here, or anywhere in fact, then I might overlook some of your sartorial shortcomings. Just not that one”, she says, pointing at the black patch of visible T-shirt.

 “Aw, a few guys in Linguistics got these made up for a party. I just wore it to wind up Serena, I mean, Jesus, she’s hot, don’t you think, for an old gal?” he asks cheekily, which Bernie ignores, “but man, you don’t want to get on her wrong side”.

 During the interview, Bernie makes the surprising discovery that Xavier’s parents are both doctors originally from Haiti, that he speaks French and Creole fluently and fair Spanish,  and worked on disaster relief in Haiti after the earthquake. He has also worked in the Dominican Republic (“I just love the music!”). Another tick, and mental note to self to spare him no hardship when it comes to the postings.

 Still on a roll and buoyed up by the positive energy now surrounding her, Bernie breezes into the final meeting of the day, to name names for the project bids. Jac lifts her eyebrows, the expression in her eyes unreadable as she greets Bernie outside the room. “All good, Wolfe? Recovered from this morning?”.

 “All good”, confirms Bernie, and Jac gives the merest hint of a smile. When they enter the room, Serena is already there, her DOS armour on.

 “Ladies”, she inclines her head. “Good to see you. Now shall we start?”

 Jac kicks off the meeting to tell the group that as her position is UK-based, she has appointed Oliver Valentine as Academic Co-ordinator for all overseas project bids. She will act in a consultancy capacity as required, but for now, she will let him lead. And she leaves the room.

 Serena, as overall Director of Studies, then announces that Bernie will chair all the selection meetings and will report to her. First she would like to share some information about which projects they will be bidding for.

 “There are three on the table that look possible”, she says, as interest in the room quickens. “Costa Rica, Kazakhstan and Myanmar. All have a bidding timeline that is within our reach, but we can’t do all three. What Bernie and I will be doing together with Professor Hanssen, is evaluating the chances of bidding success as well as the project viability to find the one we should go for. As bidding packages have to be purchased, all the more reason to get our ducks in a row first. Yes, Oliver?”

 “How long will it take you to decide?”

 “We need to be ordering the bid package within one week, so it’ll be soon. After that it will be another week until it arrives. Then we get to work”.

 A groan from Morven. “What about the DELTA practical?”

 “That will not be affected”, says Bernie. “Everything is set up. If you are involved in both the DELTA and the project, you will finish with DELTA Module Two before work starts on the Project. The actual bid construction in any case will be handled by myself, Serena and Oliver, so you wouldn’t be involved until a much later stage.”

 “OK”, says Serena briskly, if that’s all for now I’ll leave you with Bernie, and she walks out of the room, swinging her hips, without meeting Bernie’s eyes.

 By 5pm, Bernie has a list of potential team members, noting with interest that there are at least 3 Spanish speakers in the group- Oliver, who has worked in Mexico, Xavier, and Morven who has been learning Spanish for a year. She is secretly rooting for the Costa Rica project, so this could be a plus factor. She gathers her jacket and briefcase with a feeling of satisfaction. The day that started so badly has turned around. Dom walks with her to the exit. As they cross the foyer Bernie sees a noticeboard with posters for classes and activities. She is attracted by the yoga class, thinking it would help her back. 

 “The yoga class is great”, says Dom, shyly. “I do that one. You could come along with me if you like. Donna from Marketing is the instructor”.

 “That sounds good”, says Bernie. “I’ll think about it”. Then, remembering what Hanssen had said to her the previous day, she looks around for the Esperanto class.

 “What about Professor Hanssen’s Esperanto class?” she asks. “Does anyone go to that?”

 “Esperanto class?”   Dom is puzzled.

 “Yes, Wednesday lunchtimes. Apparently Sacha was quite a fan”.

 Dom thinks for a moment then he bursts into laughter.

 “Esperanto- ahhhhhhhhh “ and tears are pouring down Dom’s face. “Hanssen’s having you on. Wednesday lunch is Hanssen’s Open House. It’s a slot where any teacher or staff member can go and rant, complain, talk about any issue they like. It’s kind of weird. But it works. He does meditation at the end as well. It’s actually good fun, you should try it”, and he walks away still laughing, “Esperanto, ooh Henrik, you naughty man!”

 Bernie walks across the car park feeling lighter than she has for a long time. On the way, she stops to light a cigarette, and is still smiling when she reaches her car.

***

Bernie doesn’t see a champagne coloured Lexus parked a couple of rows behind her, and the occupant, who was about to get out of the car, stops as she sees Bernie walking towards her, staring in disbelief. She crouches down to avoid being spotted.  As soon as Bernie has driven off she gets out her gold iPhone and calls Serena.

 “Campbell.”

 “Serena, you won’t believe who I’ve just seen in your car park. I’d know that swagger anywhere.”

 Serena’s heart sinks.

 “It’s Cowboy, from Casablanca, isn’t it? And God, she’s still as hot as ever.”

 “Siân, that was 28 years ago, it’s all water under the bridge. And her name is Berenice Wolfe, she’s our new Teacher Training Co-ordinator.”

 “Get out the Shiraz, Serena, I’m coming up!” and she scrambles out of the car and races into the building nearly snapping the heels off her Manolo Blahniks.

 Serena sighs deeply. She’s been hiding in her office since her talk with Bernie, only emerging briefly for the project meeting, still with very mixed feelings- part annoyance at how Bernie has managed in only two days to bring scandal  to their workplace, and part alarm at how Bernie has been ringing all those little bells she thought were safely tucked away.

 Siân, as usual, is insatiable for details.

 “Don’t tell me you don’t still fancy her! I mean look at her- absolutely gorgeous! Heaven knows I’m not about to take that bus, but really, Serena! Those long legs and that _hair_ , oh my God and that _jacket!_ How can you not be swooning?”

 “Siân, perhaps I should remind you that in those 28 years I’ve had numerous male partners, been married, divorced, had a daughter, and a whole life. She, too has been married, had children and is now divorcing. We aren’t the same people any more”, Serena states flatly.

  “Litmus test, Serena- when you met her this time, were there sparks?”

 The answer is written all over Serena’s face as she fiddles with the pendant at her neck.

 "Right. You sparked. I knew it. So what are you going to do now?”

 “What can I do?”, Serena raises her hands in a gesture of futility. “She’s in the middle of a horribly messy divorce from the sounds of it, husband took exception to her relationship with  a female colleague and is out for revenge. He’s a lecturer at the uni, the last thing we need here is a scandal.”

 “Oh so she _is_ gay! I knew it. So what are you waiting for? Your chance to catch up with what you missed out on 28 years ago!”

 “Don’t be ridiculous, Siân. I’m sure she thought I was just a silly girl back then. She seemed to be more shocked than pleased to see me. She is still technically married, and you know I don’t do infidelity”.

 “Spare me your moral high ground, Campbell. Nothing is black and white as well you should know. I’d snap her up quickly if I were you, because if you don’t someone else surely will”.


	5. Ways of Seeing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bernie hits her stride in the classroom- and takes up yoga. Oh poor Serena!

By the end of the week, Bernie is feeling much more on top of her game. She has taken to preparing her classes in the Teachers’ Room, which also helps her to bond with her colleagues. Dom and Morven are especially grateful for this. Although Jac had stepped in to cover Sacha’s absence, Bernie, as senior tutor, needs to complete her observations of their classes for Module Two of the DELTA before they prepare independently for the class assessed by the external examiner, so there is quite a bit of ground to cover in the next 2-3 weeks.

 One of the things Serena has put at the top of Bernie’s To -Do list is to launch a series of open workshops/seminars on the theme of “Teaching in Resource-Poor Environments”, the idea being to invite the MA students as well as their own teachers to take part in readiness for the overseas Project teams selection. Serena has left the choice of content to Bernie with the proviso that each workshop will overlap with specific areas of their courses. Bernie has opted to start with ‘Approaches to Observation’, something both groups are familiar with. The DELTAs in particular, have to observe each other and familiarise themselves with basic observation instruments as part of their course.

 Despite the fact that Bernie has a stacked timetable of classes, with different meetings twice a day and paperwork on top of that, Serena insists on the first seminar happening on Friday morning, and has cleared the schedules and rearranged classes so that everyone can attend. Bernie has resolved not to complain but to try to meet expectations.  She has spent every evening so far looking for apartments, has done her class planning early in the morning and over lunchtimes and breaks in the Teacher’s Room and will, frankly, be glad when Friday is over.

 Serena is aware of the strain that Bernie is under and of her fear, since Tuesday’s revelations, of letting down her new colleagues, but she tells herself they have to show that HIEC is really back on track. Serena is also aware that Bernie is avoiding her, or, at least, trying not to get in her way. When they do meet she is always professional and cheerful. If truth be told, Serena is a little jealous of the attention that Bernie seems to be getting in the Teachers’ Room. Dom and Morven hang onto her every word, and she has even been overheard ribbing Darren and Xavier, who now appear to have given her a nickname and answer her requests with “Aye aye, Major”.  Serena feels somewhat excluded.

 On Friday at 8am, Serena is in Guy Self’s Faculty office, having been summoned to collect an official document which effectively hands over management and coordination of the MA TESOL to HIEC. This is a huge relief for Serena, a battle she has finally won over Guy Self and the Faculty, with the approval of the Board, so she is feeling pleased with herself as she heads out towards the exit. Suddenly, a vision in aqua and black lycra is running towards her carrying a rolled up mat and a sports bag.

 “Serena”, calls Bernie, a little pink-faced.

 Serena stops in her tracks. Bernie has a ‘just exercised’ look, her hair is tied back and Serena can see the definition of her biceps and shoulders as well as the top of a pink scar in the centre of her chest. She gulps, fighting to keep her eyes on Bernie’s face, well aware that there is no bra under the thin aqua vest.

 “Bernie”, she breathes, “what are you doing here?”

 “Yoga”, pants Bernie. “I was trying to catch up with you. There’s only one shower and I have an 8.30 class. I can’t stand around and wait so I was wondering if I could use the shower in your office bathroom? I have my own towel and stuff,” indicating the sports bag.

 Serena is practically hyperventilating at this close proximity, she can see droplets of sweat on Bernie’s shoulders, and the way those lycra tights cling to her thighs leaves very little to the imagination. She can hardly refuse the request- but the idea of Bernie showering just a few feet away from her is frankly terrifying. Fiddling with her pendant, she avoids eye contact and replies “Yes, of course. I’ll..er.. get us some coffee shall I, while you shower?”, and, digging out the key to her office door, she almost throws it at Bernie and heads for Pulses.

By the time she gets upstairs, her heart rate has returned to normal and she is keeping her mind on the coffee and on her tasks for the day. Entering the office, she sees Ric raise his head and his eyebrows, smirking suggestively.

 “Hmm quite a vision!”

 “What’s that?” Serena snaps

 “Bernie, in all her lycra glory”, he grins.

 “Mind out of the gutter, Griffin”, she barks and goes through to her office, shutting the door, unaware of the look that passes between Ric and Jasmine.

 As soon as she has shut the door, thinking Bernie may need some privacy, she realises she is hardly likely to emerge from the bathroom undressed, and that being alone with her in a confined space might actually be worse, so she hastily reopens the door and goes to sit down, fanning herself.

 “Hot flush?” asks Bernie, stepping into the room from the bathroom, gusts of fragrant, steamy air coming with her. She is towelling her hair dry, dressed, Serena realises with a jolt, in skinny dark charcoal jeans with a button fly. Bernie flings the towel into her bag and runs a brush through her tangled hair. She is wearing a fitted black and white striped shirt open at the neck and as Serena watches, she tucks the shirt into her jeans and cinches the belt tight.

 She catches Serena looking at her jeans, and suddenly self-conscious, she smooths her hands over her hips, saying anxiously-

 “Is this OK for the dress code? I know you don’t allow faded or ripped jeans but I thought black…..”

 “No, no, Bernie it’s absolutely fine. They look very smart”, which, in fact, they do.

 Then Bernie perches on Serena’s desk and picks up the untouched coffee.   
“This for me? Thanks”, she says a little shyly.

 Serena can hardly breathe. She can smell Bernie’s citrussy fragrance- not the same one from all those years ago, but one Serena recognises from being dragged by her daughter into the same perfume shop each time in various airports, and those fly buttons are now tantalisingly close to Serena’s line of vision.

 Whenever Serena used to think of Bernie after Casablanca, she had a vision of her in those button front 501’s. Serena found the idea of buttons much sexier than a zip could ever be. She thought about being pushed against the wall and snogged to within a millisecond of unconsciousness, feeling the buttons rub suggestively against her. She imagined undoing them, one by one, her fingers creeping ever closer to her goal. Now Bernie was determined to torture her by wearing the same style of jeans- were button-fronts in fashion again, she wondered? she must ask Elinor- and she still had that perfectly flat stomach and beautifully firm backside. Serena squeezes her legs together in her Shapers underwear, gritting her teeth at the thought that Bernie was probably only wearing a thong or something skimpy underneath.

 “I..er..didn’t know you were into yoga”, Serena tries.

 “Oh, I’ve done a fair bit over the years. The thing about yoga is that wherever you are, you can do it by yourself with a mat, so even if you can’t find a gym or a pool or whatever, you can keep fit. That’s a great class, by the way – Donna does Vinyasa yoga, with more flowing movement, so you get a real workout. You should try.”

Serena glumly pictures herself, curves on display in an extra- firm sports bra and lycra outfit, struggling to keep up while Bernie on the mat in front is effortlessly flowing between postures, giving her an unobstructed view of her gorgeous ass every time she moves into downward dog. Sweat breaks out again and she reaches for a tissue.  

 “The caffeine may not help”, says Bernie sympathetically. “It does tend to open the sweat pores”.

 Then, realising that Serena was not really in the mood for conversation, she takes her cup in one hand, and her bag, and yoga mat in the other, and, further tormenting  Serena for at least five seconds with another full frontal close- up of the metal buttons as she stands and turns, says, cheerfully,   
  
“OK I’ll get out of your hair. The open session is at 10.00, remember, so feel free to come along if that’s your thing”, and she’s gone, leaving a lingering aroma of Lime, Basil and Mandarin behind her.

 Serena has no classes or meetings before 10 am, so she closes her office door, determined to catch up with emails. In reality, she knows that is not going to happen until she can banish the image of Berenice Wolfe in those tight jeans, or that clinging lycra. Groaning, Serena feels trapped. She can’t work until this itch is scratched, but it feels so demeaning to have to go into her bathroom, where Bernie was showering only a few minutes ago, to take the edge off her frustration in private, and there’s no question of doing it at her desk in case someone comes in. She feels like a horny teenager, but finally succumbs to the impulse.

 By 10 am, Serena has got her professional mask on, fantasies of Bernie reduced to a slight damp patch in her underwear, which she has shored up with an emergency pantyliner she keeps in her handbag. She is looking forward to seeing Bernie in action with the other teachers. She realises too, with something like dismay, that she is almost waiting for her to put a foot wrong.

 Bernie looks at her watch, her first class finished at 9.45 and she has 15 minutes to cue up her CD. She looks around for a CD player. There isn’t one. So far, all her notes and worksheets have been printed off from her files and she hasn’t needed audio or video, but this was unexpected. She looks around for Dom or Morven.

 “Anyone got a CD player?” she asks.

 Dom comes over. “Oh, HIEC went all digital last year, he says. What kind of CD is it? Video or Audio?”

 On learning that it’s video, he says “Hold on a sec, we can fix this”, and picks up the internal phone.

 2 minutes later, a curly-headed young man in a HIEC polo shirt and chinos arrives.

 “What have we got?” he asks cheerfully.

 “Video CD circa 1995”, chirps Dom, cheekily. The young man grins and takes it over to a desktop computer in the corner.

 “That’s Lofty from Technical Support, and the computer over there is the multi- conversion set-up”, he explains.

 Bernie looks at her watch. “Will it be quick?” she asks.

 “Quick as a wink”, smiles Dom.

 Lofty inserts the CD into a standalone drive connected to the computer, and in a couple of minutes hands her a USB stick saying “There you go. Just put that into the laptop in the classroom and it will project onto the screen”.

 “Cheers”, replies Bernie, but her eyes say to Dom “Help!”

 “Allow me”, Dom smiles, taking the USB and whispering something to Lofty as they make their way out of the Teachers’ Room to the classroom.

 Bernie is shocked by the number of people who have turned up for her workshop. In addition to all the MA students, there are the 4 DELTAS- Dom, Morven and 2 others, all the contract teachers, Serena and even Jac Naylor. As Dom sets up the projector for her, Bernie steps forward and starts the workshop.

 Suddenly, the bumbling technophobe is gone, and in her place, someone supremely at ease in the setting.

 “Thank you all for showing up for this first in a series of workshops entitled ‘Teaching in Resource-Poor Environments’. The title is deliberately ambiguous. It is not just about developed or undeveloped countries. One of the things I have learned in my long career is that you can find the latest equipment where you least expect it –

 “-although it doesn’t always work!”, this from Jac, overheard by everyone.

 “-er quite, and sometimes you have the least resources where you most expect them. Our first workshop touches on Observation- something both DELTA and MA candidates find themselves having to consider as a fundamental part of their course. It is entitled “Approaches to Observation”, which implies what, does anyone have an idea?”

 Morven shoots her hand up. “That there may be more than one approach?”

 “Yes. And?”

 “That you’re going to tell us what they are”, says Darren, earnestly.

 “Ha, no, not quite. What I’d like us to do in this session is a bit of research about human nature before we delve into specific approaches. I’m going to show you a video clip- something from the dark ages, if Dom and Lofty are to be believed, but no less relevant today, and a situation you’d still find in many a corner of the world. Now what I’d like you to do as you watch this video is to make some notes to record your observations. Imagine you are observing this teacher as a trainer working in his country. What do you see that you would feed back to him about this lesson? Please make notes as you watch”.

 And she nods to Dom, who starts the video clip.

 The camera zooms in on a classroom where fifty or more children are sitting on the floor. They seem to be aged somewhere between about 7 and 10, and are all barefoot, sitting cross-legged on mats. At the front is a large African man wearing a long white robe and a white skull cap and glasses. He greets the children cordially- “Good morning class”. “Good Morning, Teacher”, they reply in chorus. He takes them through some standard drills and prompts, first greetings, then moving onto vocabulary for parts of the body, eliciting responses by choral repetition. After some 10 minutes of this he tells the class they are going to sing a song called “Head, Shoulders, Knees and Toes”. The children are visibly excited.

 By this point, Bernie can see people writing furiously; she hears someone whisper loudly “TPR”, and others nodding at each other and generally feeling very comfortable with the whole thing.

 The man has a battery operated cassette player, so he says to the children “Listen first,” and starts the tape, singing along to the music, slightly out of tune, indicating the parts of his body as he does so:

 “Head, Shoulders, Knees and Toes,

Knees and Toes,

Head, Shoulders, Knees and Toes,

Knees and Toes,

And eyes, and ears and mouth and nose,

Head, Shoulders, Knees and Toes,

Knees and Toes”.

 Each time he bends over to repeat “knees and toes”, his glasses get knocked to the side, and he seems to be finding it an effort. The children are squirming now, eager to practise, so the teacher starts the tape again and they sing with him, pointing to the relevant body part as they do so.

 The next verse has one word missing each time, and the children have to supply it, while the teacher taps his head.

 _____ , shoulders, knees and toes etc.

 Each subsequent verse omits another word until the children sing the whole song by themselves, supplying all the words and touching the relevant body part.

 At first the children keep up, and the teacher stays on track, but as he omits more words for each verse, things start to go slightly off-kilter. By the end, his glasses are skew-whiff, he has mixed up body parts and words, so that he is mouthing “eyes, and ears and knees and toes” and pointing to nose and ears and mouth in a random sort of order. The children keep singing, also all out of order and no one seems to notice the mix up. At the end, he beams at the children, a little self-consciously because he knows he is being filmed, and brings the lesson to a close, perspiring heavily. “Thank you, children,” he says proudly, “that was very good”.

 Bernie nods to stop the playback and looks around.  The teachers are stifling their laughter as they complete their notes, looking at each other and wiping their eyes.  

 “Right”, says Bernie. “Now please get into groups of four and collect your observations. You have ten minutes”.

 Bernie wanders around a little as they discuss in groups. She has added a long, grey, open cardigan to her outfit, but when she twists her pelvis to move between desks, the buttons gleam each time the light glances off them.  Serena averts her eyes and tries to keep her mind on the task. She has a few ideas about what Bernie’s teaching point is,  and makes some notes which she keeps to herself. After ten minutes, Bernie stops them and calls a representative of each group to write their summarised observations on the board and give a verbal explanation.

  “He didn’t use the prompts correctly at the start”, says Oliver. “When the children made a mistake, he should have corrected them individually and repeated the drill”.

 “He should have given instructions more clearly before the song”, says Xavier.

 “He should have learned the song correctly before singing,  and practised the body parts in synch with the tune”, says Morven.

 Serena feels satisfied that she is on the right track.

 Through all this, no one has noticed that Jac Naylor is sitting at the back, arms crossed, smiling to herself, or that Lofty is standing in the doorway with a mini camcorder.

 When all the comments are up on the board, Bernie comes forward.

 “That’s excellent”, she says. “Your powers of observation are acute. Congratulations”.

She pauses.

 “This session is entitled “Approaches to Observation”, and my point here was to find out what approaches you actually use. You are mostly seasoned teachers and have worked on many different types of observation task. I didn’t give you a specific task, other than to collect “feedback”, whatever that might be. What can you tell me about the feedback on this board?”

 The room goes quiet and the sense of collective dismay, as people begin to understand the situation Bernie has set up, is palpable. Then Morven says in a quiet voice. “It’s all negative”.

 “And what does that tell us about the observers?” asks Bernie.

 There is a longer silence, then Raf says “We are approaching the observation with pre-conceived ideas”.

 “Yes”, says Bernie. “Exactly. I didn’t tell you what you were looking for. I didn’t tell you whether this observation was _formative_ or _evaluative_ , for example.  What your feedback indicates is that most people’s default position is to evaluate- negatively. We start with a picture of what we imagine things _should_ be like, and we deduct points. We don’t see what the positives are when we focus only on the negatives”.

 People are nodding somewhat sheepishly.  Serena drops her pen and sits back in her chair as Bernie’s words go through her. She feels her cheeks burn. _We start with a picture of what we imagine things **should** be like, and we deduct points_. She thinks of her mother, of how she could never please her, how Adrienne always saw Serena’s faults, but never her virtues, and of how she pushed and pushed herself to achieve ever more impressive qualifications, neglecting her family in the process. She thinks of her daughter, Elinor, and the realisation comes to her that she is perpetuating the same negative evaluation process her mother used on her. She feels suddenly crushed and humiliated, as if Bernie has seen right through her.

 “This wasn’t a trick”, says Bernie. “It’s a demonstration of basic human nature. The whole point about approaching observation is to know before you start exactly what you want to observe and what the facts of the situation are so that you can go in without pre-judging. The process involves starting with a blank slate and then viewing through a certain type of lens to build our picture up. So now we’re going to start again. I’m going to replay the clip, but first we will establish the situational facts and then I’ll ask you to identify the positives- that is, to say, where you think you can see learning taking place despite any situational or procedural factors that might seem to inhibit it. And after that we will consider what feedback we could realistically give to the teacher.”

 She then proceeds to tell the group where the video was made, that normal class sizes in state primary schools in that country are 50-100, that there is no electricity very often, no furniture, and that as the first language is Arabic, and the national religion Islam, children are used to learning very effectively through choral repetition, as that is how they learn the Koran in school. Also, as she points out, it is virtually impossible to correct individual students when there are more than 50 in a class and time is short.

By this time, the group has forgotten its earlier dismay and is engaging enthusiastically with the question. Serena is impressed despite herself. Bernie has got them all on-side, turning their pre-conceptions upside down in a matter of fact, unpatronising way, and suddenly, they are discovering a new way of seeing.

 “OK,” says Bernie. “First reflections?”

Dom raises his hand. “The teacher never lapsed into his own language once, despite being with 50 plus primary kids he shares a mother tongue with. That is a hell of a feat!”

 There are nods and then others start raising their hands, and suddenly everyone is talking, arguing and competing for air time.

Serena feels her phone vibrate in her pocket. Taking it out, she sees that Hanssen is calling her, so she creeps out of the room, slipping her notes into her pocket as she goes. 

By the time the session ends, the mood is upbeat and the teachers are still furiously discussing points with each other. As Bernie sees them out and collects her USB, she sees Jac still there.

“Nice one, Wolfe”, says Jac. “Isn’t that the British Council Oman video you used on that group at the IATEFL conference  10 years ago?”

 Bernie smiles. “Good memory. But it works every time. My mentor used it on me and my group when I was starting out as a trainer. There are still plenty of places in the world that look like that. But it doesn’t necessarily mean the kids aren’t learning something.”

 “You hoping this will put you back in Campbell’s good books after threatening to bring scandal to HIEC on Day Two?”

 “Some hope”, replies Bernie. “She didn’t seem all that impressed and she left before the end.”

 “Don’t underrate her”, says Jac. “She was probably called out anyway. Come on, genius, your turn to buy the BLT’s”, and they head for Pulses.

 Serena, meanwhile, is in Ric’s office with him and Henrik.

 “I have just received Sacha Levy’s official request to take early retirement”, says Henrik.

 “I know we would normally want to give the postholder at least a month’s probation, but pressure of time will force our hand. Do I have your approval to offer Ms Wolfe tenure?”

 Ric looks at Serena. Her face feels tight, but she nods.

 “The first open session seemed to go well”, she says quietly.

 “From what I observed”, says Henrik, as Serena wonders how he managed to be there without anyone noticing “it went more than ‘well’. It was something of a revelation. All these sessions are, I believe, being recorded for future use. It is my belief that Ms Wolfe will help us make HIEC a force to be reckoned with”.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TPR= Total Physical Response- a teaching methodology that uses physical tasks to teach language  
> "Head, Shoulders, Knees and Toes"- you can find this song on YouTube
> 
> IATEFL= International Association of Teachers of English As A Foreign Language


	6. I Realise That Nothing's As It Seems

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Disaster on the Delta Practical day: a few unfortunate things come together- can Bernie escape being pigeon-holed by her new colleagues? Will Serena understand the truth of what is going on? A rather angst-filled chapter, guided by the moral fixation of the unlovely Imelda Cousins!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title is from the main song for the fic "Desert Rose" by Sting and Cheb Mami.

Bernie has never really had a home of her own. Since leaving her parents’ house to go to university, she has occupied a succession of student rooms in residences, rented bedsits, flats and studios, until her marriage to Marcus, when they rented houses – once even a beautiful villa in south-east Asia- as a family, and finally the house Marcus inherited from his mother, where Bernie has been living since she returned to the UK. She has always been a light traveller and a practical dresser. It takes her less than two hours on the first Saturday morning of her employment at HIEC to gather all her belongings from Marcus’ house and carry them to the van Cameron borrowed from his friend to help her move. Another suite of rooms, another bunch of keys, each with its own individual quirks. The new apartment is small- one bedroom, and, (not too hideously) furnished. Bernie’s priority is to install herself -as she has done hundreds of times before- as quickly and as painlessly as possible, and, after one call to the telephone company and another to the internet provider, everything is in process. She empties her bags of clothes into wardrobes and drawers, does a quick supermarket run for some cleaning gear, a week’s worth of ready meals and a bottle of whisky and gets back to work on her class preparation.

 She has taken over the Teacher Education module of the MA TESOL, to the students’ immense relief, and has worked intensively with Raf, Jac and the candidates on the DELTA Module Two assignments and preparation for the externally assessed practical. Her Friday morning seminars on “Teaching in Resource-Poor Environments” have continued to pull in the crowds and she finds this aspect of her work most enjoyable.

 She has continued with the yoga class three mornings per week,  and is finding it both good for her back and an excellent way of maintaining a balance between the stress of her new job and her personal life. Since Bernie signed the official contract, Serena has been nothing but professional, but the expected “catch up” has failed to materialise. Bernie makes sure she is never in a situation where she feels tempted to talk to Serena about her divorce or the war of words between herself and Marcus. If anyone has stepped up, it has been Dom, who, since she was outed in public, has been a strong support. Once she realises he is also gay, they arrange to have coffee breaks on the rooftop, letting off steam out of other people’s earshot and sharing a few experiences. HIEC is feeling more and more like home, in contrast to her empty flat, and the welcome she gets in the Teachers’ Room reinforces that.

 Serena has noted Bernie’s obvious dedication to the job and her growing popularity among staff and teachers alike with disappointment. Far from bringing them closer, Bernie’s progress has effectively blocked the personal rapprochement that Serena was hoping for after calling Bernie out on her private life. Bernie seems to have erected a screen between herself and Serena to allow only the professional issues they share to filter through and has been true to her word about not bringing her private life into HIEC.

 Serena can only be one hundred percent sure to be alone with Bernie on yoga mornings, and she has been waiting for an opportunity to use that morning hiatus to get closer to Bernie.  Serena has given Bernie a key to her office so that she can go in and shower quickly before work starts. Serena arrives after 8.15 so as to avoid overlapping with the lycra phase, which so disturbs her equilibrium. She brings coffee, and they spend 15 minutes or so catching up on work issues. Gradually, a set of Bernie’s shower gel, shampoo and conditioner lodge themselves in the office bathroom. Serena can’t resist using the shower gel to wash her hands so that she can inhale the fragrance of Bernie when she has vanished back to the Teachers’ Room. Her growing frustration and Bernie’s apparent indifference are hurting Serena’s self-esteem. It’s almost as if, despite being Bernie’s boss, Bernie still thinks of her as the less experienced, naïve young woman she was in the past.

 Occasionally she will approach Bernie’s table at lunch time, but the conversation remains impersonal, and Bernie’s popularity ensures that they are rarely alone for more than a few minutes. Serena has a stab of jealousy every time she sees the younger men and women gathering around Bernie in apparent awe, but she tells herself she hasn’t seen any evidence of a new partner yet, and that Bernie is waiting for the divorce to be well and truly history before she raises her head and looks around her.  

The day before the DELTA Practical, Bernie and Serena are having their post-yoga coffee in Serena’s office when Bernie gets a text on her phone. She knows it’s not Marcus, because she has assigned nasty ker-plunk tone to him, so she looks in case it is from one of the kids. What she sees on the screen sends her scrambling to her feet mumbling “Um, Serena, you’ll have to excuse me, it seems someone wants to see me”.

 Serena is dying to ask who can make Bernie’s expression change like that, but doesn’t want to appear prurient, so she nods and Bernie shoots out. Serena leaves her door open in case she comes back, but after 15 minutes it’s Jasmine who tells her that someone should warn Bernie she’ll be late for class.

 “Where is she?” asks Serena

 The  answer is, sitting on the bench outside Reception, chatting intensely to a friend, or maybe it’s a postgrad student.

 “What does he or she look like?  asks Serena, hoping to get away with pretending she knows them.

 “Younger than Bernie, tall, slim, good looking, sporty woman with green eyes”, says Jasmine, with a hint of mischief.

 Serena is torn between jealousy and curiosity, but jealousy wins so she texts Bernie “Class asking where you are”, and leaves it at that, getting a return text “Sorry, on my way”.

 There are no more sightings of the mystery woman that day and Bernie shows no signs of anything being amiss.

 On the dreaded DELTA Practical day, Bernie arrives in the Teachers’ Room at 8am, checking that everything is set up for Carolyn Hawkins, the assigned external examiner. Carolyn will complete 4 class assessments in one day, two in the morning and two in the afternoon. Dom is scheduled to go last, his assigned class the final one, at 4.00 pm. In order to fit everything in, the schedules have had to be rearranged, and cover is required for two classes when the DELTA teachers would normally be teaching them. Raf comes in at 8.15 am looking stressed.

 “Everything OK?” ask Bernie, feeling almost as nervous as Morven, who has the first class with the external examiner.

 “Hope so”, says Raf. “I asked 2 of the MA students from Self’s department to cover for Dom and Morven’s EAP classes while they do the practical, but one has had a schedule change and can’t do it, so I had to ask them to find a spare body. It’s someone new. Do you want to go over the lesson plan with her, or shall I?”

 Bernie is torn, wanting to be there for Morven when the external examiner arrives, but knowing she must stay on top of everything else.

 “Send her in to me for 5 minutes then you can run through the actual lesson plan with her, OK?”

 When she looks up, it is into the glass- green eyes of her ex-lover, Alex Dawson.

  _Sorry_ ” mouths Alex, and says “Hi again”, aware that people would have seen them talking the previous day.

 “Oh, hi Alex” mouthing “ _WHAT_?”  “Look, I’ll run you through the background stuff and Raf will give you the lesson plan, OK?”. She takes Alex by the arm and moves her out of earshot of the others, pretending to go to her pigeon-hole to get the class list, which she in fact has in her hand.

 “Really sorry, Bern”, says Alex, “but no one else free this morning. Self isn’t aware of the connection, is he?”

 “He doesn’t know it was you, and neither does Marcus. So just pretend we’ve only met once before, and if you see me around the building with other people, ignore me. Got that? This class -Advanced Reading Skills-is a doddle- go and enjoy” and she shoves the class register into Alex’ hands and shoos her out of the door, where Raf is waiting.

 Bernie is recovering  from this shock when Jac sticks her head round the door.

 “Early warning”, she says grimly. “The external examiner is here and it seems it’s not Hawkins, as expected. Apparently she was carted off to hospital in the night with appendicitis”.

 Hawkins is not a popular examiner, so Dom and Morven look up with new hope.

 “Sorry to have to prick your bubble”, says Jac grimly, “but the substitute is Imelda Cousins. She’s in Reception. Who wants to go and collect her?”

 There is a long silence. Dom and Morven are now deeply depressed and Bernie is totally appalled.

 “How can it be Cousins?” she asks Jac. “She’s 70 if she’s a day and should have retired ages ago.”

 “Cousins lives in Bath”, says Jac. “Which means she can get here at short notice. It seems they haven’t put her out to grass just yet. Now stop quibbling and go and get her. Raf!”

 Having returned from setting Alex up with her cover class Raf heads out again, with pursed lips, to collect Imelda.

 Bernie collapses onto a chair, looking stunned.  Jac goes over and murmurs “What’s the story, Wolfe? Is there something personal between you and Cousins?”

 Bernie’s voice is faint. “She hates me. She’s the one who outed me to Marcus, she’s an old friend of his mother’s. How can we stop her from taking her hatred out on our candidates?”

 “Leave her to me”, says Jac.  “Go and sit over there and pretend to be busy. We’ll try not to let her see you”.

 Jac tries to intercept Imelda Cousins on her arrival but Imelda insists on seeing Sacha Levy.

“It’s absolutely imperative that I liaise about these candidates with the Senior Trainer”, she says in her haughty voice.

 “Well I’m afraid Mr. Levy is in hospital”.

 “In that case, I want to see whoever is doing Mr. Levy’s job,” insists Imelda.

 “What seems to be the problem?” Serena is suddenly at the door after  Raf has messaged her for assistance.

 “Good morning, Serena,” says Imelda, “could you please introduce me to the Teacher Training Co-ordinator, or whoever is doing that job at present? Your staff don’t seem to remember who it is”.

 “Yes, of course,” says Serena, looking extremely annoyed. “It’s Dr. Wolfe- Bernie, come over here, please”.

 Bernie gets to her feet slowly and walks towards Serena and Imelda.

 “Now, that wasn’t so difficult, was it?” asks Serena sarcastically.

 “Imelda Cousins, meet Berenice Wolfe, our new Teacher Training Co-ordinator; Bernie meet Imelda Cousins, the longest serving DELTA examiner in the world”.

 Imelda’s eyes are glittering dangerously. “Oh, we’ve met”, she says.

 Bernie stands totally still, her face expressionless. “Hello Imelda”, she says stiffly, and ignoring the animosity radiating off the older woman, invites Imelda to her office for the pre-lesson briefing. Imelda raises her eyebrows at Serena.

 "Well, same old Berenice, she never did like following rules”, and she stalks after Bernie.

 Serena, both puzzled by Imelda’s remark and visibly exasperated by her staff’s seeming lack of cooperation, turns to Jac “Just what is going on here? You all know that Imelda is hell on wheels, why try to make it so much harder?’

 “It would seem there’s a little history, and Bernie has fallen foul of Imelda on previous occasions”, she says.

 “So, on this day of all days, when we need to support our colleagues doing their practical, we have to put up with this distraction of Berenice bloody Wolfe’s previous misdemeanours!” she snaps, scowling at Jac.“Jac, I am making you personally responsible for ensuring that this in no way affects our teachers or the outcome of their assessed lessons.”

 “I’ll do my best”, says Jac.

 Bernie re-emerges from the office with Imelda and both Raf and Jac go to meet her and emphasise that the candidates are well prepared and ready.

 “Let me escort you to the first class, Ms Cousins”, he says. “Morven Digby with an adult Pre-Intermediate class”.

 Imelda’s mouth is set in a firm line, but she allows herself to be shown to the classroom.

 Bernie looks at Jac. “That went well”, she mutters.

 “You need to hold yourself together, Wolfe”, says Jac. “Your private shenanigans have nothing whatsoever to do with Morven and Dom’s performance today and Cousins can’t use that as an excuse to give them a bad assessment. So just ride it out and she’ll soon be gone”.

 “I wish”, and Bernie goes back into the Teachers’ Room, where she tries to concentrate on reading the Costa Rica project bid documents. When the bell rings for the end of the lesson, Bernie gets up thinking to greet Morven and give her moral support, but she is half-way down the corridor when a truly nauseating realisation washes over her. Alex is in the classroom next door to Morven. Imelda must not, cannot see Alex. Bernie breaks into a run, but as she rounds the corner to the corridor where the classrooms are she freezes in absolute horror. Alex is already in the corridor, grinning cheerily and, on seeing Bernie on her own, gives her a wave.

 “Hi Bern”, she calls, “cool class, no worries at all”. As she is speaking, Imelda emerges from Morven’s classroom and sees Alex. She stops abruptly, looking at Alex, then at Bernie, hearing Alex’s cheerful greeting. If ever Bernie has wished for the floor to open and swallow her up it is in this moment. Alex has seen the look on her face and seems puzzled, then she becomes aware of Imelda looking at her. Not understanding the dynamic, she simply keeps walking along the corridor, passing Bernie, who is incapable of speech, and round the corner.

 Imelda is like a cobra poised ready to strike. “So, Berenice, that’s your game, is it? And your poor husband over the road unaware that you have your fancy woman working here with you. Well not for long, let me assure you”.

 She sets off in the direction of the Management offices, leaving Bernie still frozen to the spot, her face red, and her eyes closed in silent prayer.

 Bernie doesn’t know whether she should go to Serena’s office to try to limit the damage that Imelda can do, but she doesn’t trust herself. She would strangle the woman with her bare hands if she had to listen to her regaling Serena with her version of Bernie’s extra marital affair. So she goes into the Teachers’ Room and sits with her head in her hands, waiting for Armageddon.

 When Raf and Jac come in, Bernie says  “Raf, Please do something for me. Go and tell Alex to leave the building immediately and not to come back for Dom’s cover this afternoon. I’ll take his class if I have to.”

 “I’ll go”, offers Jac. “I need a word with her anyway”.

 “What’s the problem?”, asks Raf when Jac has left the room. ”She seems pretty competent to  me”.

 “She is”, Bernie replies, “but there’s history with Imelda Cousins and we can’t have any more distractions. And please stay on Cousins all day and escort her to all the classes. Keep her away from me as much as possible”.

 “Aye aye, Major”, says Raf, saluting.

 Armageddon isn’t long in arriving. Once Imelda has been taken to the second class, Serena materialises in the doorway of the Teachers’ Room.

 “Bernie, my office, now”, she says firmly. Bernie follows, her insides churning.

 Once inside, Serena closes the door and gestures to the chair in front of her desk. She wastes no time in getting to the point.

 “So once again, we have your private life interfering with our working environment” she says, almost hissing. Bernie cannot speak, she wouldn’t know where to start even if speech were a physical possibility. She is mortified with shame, and distress that Serena has so clearly jumped to the obvious conclusion. She can only wait to see the worst that Serena can throw at her.

 “I am reliably informed by Imelda that this woman she saw you talking to in the corridor is, in fact, the very person with whom you had the relationship that ended your marriage. I am further informed by Ric that Alex Dawson is now a teacher employed by Guy Self in the Applied Linguistics Department across the way, and that she has been called here to cover classes. Is that correct?”

 Bernie nods. Serena has these lines on either side of her mouth that are deepening as she speaks. Her eyes are flashing fire and she is standing with her hands on her hips in an aggressive stance, clearly highly displeased.

 “Once again, Bernie, you seem determined to humiliate and undermine me. Not only does your sordid little history follow wherever you go, but you saw fit to install your girlfriend” she almost spits the word “right in your workplace where anyone could see her and put two and two together, especially Guy Self, for God’s sake! What on earth were you thinking? Especially after I expressly asked you to leave your private life at home!”

 “S-serena, please let me explain…” Bernie stammers.

 Serena is in full flight now. “Explain? What is there to explain? Clearly, your relationship with this woman is still ongoing and you have cynically used the fact that you now have a tenured position to get her work as well.”

 “No, no Serena, that’s not true…”, Bernie says, wringing her hands desperately.

 “As soon as this lesson is over, Imelda will be going to have lunch with Guy Self and Marcus Dunne, and that is what she’s going to tell them. How is that going to reflect on us then, eh? Did you give any thought to that as you were wangling a job for her? Or is it that you  have absolutely no respect for me at all? Guy Self is going to rip me to shreds the minute Cousins opens her mouth, and you, you just stand on the sidelines looking like butter wouldn’t melt.”

 Serena is so angry she is beside herself, and Bernie can’t get a word in edgeways. Even if that were technically possible, she is also aware that Serena seems more upset by the idea that Alex and she could still be involved than anything Imelda Cousins might tell Guy Self.

 Serena continues. ”So now I am going over the road to see Professor Self in order to try to cover our backs – cover YOUR back, because I cannot and will not have HIEC implicated as a hotbed of intrigue. This is the last time I am going to do this, Bernie. From now on you’re on your own. Don’t come crying to me next time one of your little schemes backfires.” She tugs her suit jacket down over her hips and stalks out, leaving Bernie rooted to the carpet in her office.

 When Bernie comes to her senses and thinks about where she can flee to, Jac is in the doorway. She takes Bernie by the arm and manoeuvres her out into the corridor.  Ric and Jasmine have their heads down, avoiding eye contact. Jac beckons Bernie to follow her and they go up to the roof, Bernie still trembling in shock at the violence of Serena’s words.Bernie lights a cigarette and collapses onto the stone bench. Jac stands in front of her, hands in pockets, leaning against the wall.

 “I overheard most of that”, she says quietly. “I want you to know that I think Campbell has overstepped the mark for once. She had no right to talk to you like that or at least not to allow you to explain. Before Dawson left the building I grabbed her and asked her a few questions. She confirmed that it was she who applied for the position in the Faculty, it had nothing to do with you, and in fact she didn’t tell you about it until yesterday, right? Then this morning it was Guy Self who sent her over here in response to our request for cover teachers. So I know, Self knows, Dawson knows that none of this can be laid at your door.”

 Bernie nods.

 “But tell me more about the Cousins connection? I don’t get it.”

 Inhaling deeply, Bernie reflects for a minute. Then she says “Alex and I were working in Afghanistan and we were invited by our organisation to a British Council conference in Sharjah to present a paper. At that time we were involved, but no one knew. Imelda Cousins was at that conference, she’s an old friend of Marcus’ family. Unfortunately, by sheer bad luck, she happened to be passing our room in the hotel when Alex was kissing me goodbye at the door. And that was all. A month later I was hit by the IED and flown back. She didn’t say anything until after Marcus announced that we were divorcing, then she told him about a mystery woman I’d been involved with. He assumed she was the reason for the divorce, but it’s not true, we split up at that conference by mutual agreement. I went back to Kabul and Alex stayed in the Gulf. Unfortunately, Imelda saw Alex clearly that day in Sharjah so today she could ID her. When she told Marcus about it, she didn’t have a name or anything. It was the end of the conference and she hadn’t attended our workshop so she didn’t know who Alex was. It could have been any woman in my room. Today, fate handed her a gift!”

 So”, Jac says, eyes narrowed, “Serena’s assumption that you and Alex are still involved is completely wrong?”

 “Completely. I hadn’t seen her for months until she showed up yesterday. She apologised but she needed a job and Holby Uni is a good one. She was shocked herself when they offered it to her. I didn’t think it would be a problem because of the fact that Self and Marcus have no idea who she is, there’s nothing to link us. Until Imelda bloody Cousins came along, that is!”

 “OK listen to me, Wolfe. You’re going back down there, you’re going to stick around until the assessments are over. You are not going to crumble in front of that poisonous bitch. Just stay professional and let’s be there for Dom and Morven. If you’re not up to taking Dom’s class, one of us can do it.”

 “No, I’ll do it”, says Bernie. “I need to keep my mind occupied”.

 “Oh and one more thing. I told Dawson that you might be in trouble. She’s going to explain everything to Guy Self before Serena gets to him. It seems that she was doing outreach work for the department before she got the job here and they like her. She knows she may lose her job if Campbell and Cousins can influence Guy Self, but she thinks Self won’t want to do that. So don’t worry, she seems very level-headed”.

 Bernie nods but is privately unconvinced. The depth of Serena’s venom has shocked her to the core, together with the accusations of dishonesty and nepotism. She is deeply afraid that Alex, who is totally innocent, will lose her job because of her. She feels sick.

 “Come on,” says Jac. “Morven will have finished her class report by now so we can take her to lunch”.

 *****

 Serena knocks firmly on Guy Self’s door and a voice calls for her to enter. As she goes into the room she sees a tall, slim brunette woman with green eyes talking to Guy Self. He raises his eyebrows.

 “Ah Serena, how timely!”

 “I’m here, Guy, to clarify a few points about an incident this morning involving Bernie Wolfe, our new Teacher Training Co-ordinator, and Imelda Cousins, who has unfortunately shown up as the DELTA external examiner. I understand she is to lunch with you and Marcus when she finishes her current assessment. I wanted to talk to you first.”

 “Yes, I imagined that was what it was about. This, by the way, is Alex Dawson, our new lecturer in Applied Linguistics”.

 “So I see”, Serena cuts in coldly, giving Alex one of her most penetrating, dismissive looks.

 “It would appear, Guy, that Ms. Wolfe and Ms. Dawson know each other rather better than you and I are aware. Ms Cousins has also revealed that she knew of their connection some time back, which is why she brought Ms Dawson’s presence at HIEC today to my attention. I just wanted to clarify, Guy, that I had absolutely no idea about this connection prior to today, and that for the sake of avoiding further scandal or any hint of nepotism…..”

 Guy holds up his hand. “I’m going to stop you right there, Serena, and I want you to listen to what Alex has just told me. I believe that will clear up any misconceptions”.

 “Dr. Campbell, I’d like to emphasise that I came here on my own initiative”, says Alex in her soft northern accent. “It’s true that there is a past personal connection with Bernie, but it’s very much in the past. I had no idea when I applied to Holby University that Bernie was working at HIEC, and she had no idea I had applied here. There was no plan on her part or mine. When I arrived here, I got briefed about my job and about the fact that we would be co-operating with HIEC on the MA TESOL and on Projects, and that’s when I found out that Bernie was the Teacher Training Co-ordinator. I met her yesterday to warn her I was there and to explain that it was a coincidence. She wasn’t happy but she understood. This morning Professor Self asked me to go to HIEC to cover for one of our EAP teachers. I honestly can’t see what the problem is that you are referring to”.

 Serena can feel her heart sinking as Alex speaks. She is so plainly sincere and also totally unintimidated by Serena and Guy Self.

 “Well, Ms Dawson, it seems that Bernie neglected to inform you of one highly significant piece of information- that her husband, Dr. Marcus Dunne, is also a lecturer at this university, and a friend of Professor Self, and it is Marcus’ belief that you are responsible for the break-up of his marriage”.

 Guy Self frowns as Alex continues in the same calm voice.

 “With respect, Dr. Campbell, that’s utter tosh. My relationship with Bernie ended before she was flown back here and before she asked Marcus for a divorce. She was always totally clear with me that her reasons for wanting to divorce were about her, not me. I was never in the picture, and Marcus -or anyone- would be a fool to focus on me as the cause of Bernie’s marital discontent”.

 “Be that as it may”, says Serena, trying to save face, “but Imelda Cousins, who can identify you as the mystery woman in the affair, is all set to reveal your identity to Marcus Dunne in about one hour from now”.

 Alex looks at Self, who is clearly now very uncomfortable.

 “Professor Self”, she says simply, “if my being here is going to cause you problems with your friend and colleague, or, worse, make your friend and colleague cause even more problems for Bernie, then I will offer you my immediate resignation. I want to reiterate that Bernie is totally blameless in this scenario. She did not know I was here. She did not arrange for me to teach at HIEC, so if anyone has to go it will be me. Not her.”

 Guy Self, who has been rocking back in his chair, hands on his head, now shifts forward, elbows on his desk and comes to a conclusion.

 “That won’t be necessary Alex. Imelda is a tiresome busybody at the best of times, so leave her to me. I know poor Marcus has been through hell with that wife of his, but it’s over now and life has to go on. Quite frankly, we need staff of your calibre here in the Department.”

 Turning to Serena he says “Ms. Dawson here is one of the leading lights in Project Evaluation. I don’t think we need let a trivial past peccadillo get in the way of her glittering career, do we? As for whether you are also capable of getting over it, Serena, well that will depend on how much you are invested in the success of HIEC’s International Projects, and the MA TESOL you have just taken away from us. Alex would be a great asset to both teams. Go and look up Wolfe and Dawson, 2015 – cutting edge stuff on managing projects in resource-poor environments! You seem a mite overworked about the personal stuff if you don’t mind me saying.”

 Serena has gone a deep shade of red. Thoroughly humiliated by her misconstruction of the situation, as well as by Alex’ calm exterior and good looks, Serena can feel herself squirming. She can’t wait to escape from the room.

 “I couldn’t care less what people do in private, Guy, I am just concerned to ensure that Marcus Dunne doesn’t overreact to anything that Imelda Cousins tells him and create problems in my- Bernie’s- workplace.  However, now you and Ms Dawson have set the record straight about her employment here, I trust you can persuade Marcus not to do anything foolish.”

 And she turns on her heels and leaves.

 “Stupid, stupid, stupid”, she berates herself as she re-crosses the car park. "Peccadillo indeed!” The words she flung so cruelly at Bernie this morning come back to her and she groans. _Oh, poor Bernie!_ And she has a sudden pang of guilt at how she took out her frustration and jealousy of Alex on Bernie. She remembers Bernie’s sick, cornered rabbit  look and wonders how on earth she can make it up to her.

 As happens, she has no chance to see Bernie again that day. Bernie is teaching and Serena has meetings and a class of her own. At the end of the day she confirms with Raf that the assessed lessons have gone off without any further hitches and that whatever may have been  said at lunch, Imelda Cousins has made no further reference to Bernie or Alex. When Serena goes to catch Bernie before she goes home, she is disappointed to find her leather jacket missing from the back of her chair, and her car gone from the car park.

 Jac Naylor is waiting in the corridor, her cheekbones sharply set in the fading light.

 “You crossed a line there, Campbell”, she says with no preamble. “if you’re not careful we’ll lose one of the best Teacher Trainers in the country. It’s always all about you, isn’t it? _You_ were embarrassed, _you_ don’t want scandal, _you’re_ so afraid of what other people might think. Well guess what? No one cares. And instead of tearing strips off Bernie you should have been supporting her. You have absolutely no idea of what she’s been through in the last few years.  You know me, I’m no bleeding heart, but I can understand when a person is under so much stress that they feel they can’t cope. And that’s what you’ve done. Put her under intolerable stress. How is that good for HIEC, do you think? Do you want her back in the hospital with Sacha Levy, having a nervous breakdown? What will people say then? That Serena Campbell is such a martinet that her staff all end up in hospital being sedated?”

 Serena is crushed. She knows Jac is right, and the fact that the usually brutally cold Naylor is showing concern for another human being is in itself cause for astonishment. So she turns and says contritely.

 “You’re right, Jac. We can’t lose her. Let me try to put things right”, and she goes to her car. 

****

Having overdosed on the medicinal Shiraz the previous night while rehearsing imaginary conversations with Bernie for several hours, a hungover Serena buys the freshest, plumpest almond croissant she can find the next morning and carries it up with the coffees on a tray to her office where Bernie will be showering. As she nudges open the door to the outer office, Ric looks up. `

 “Bernie has been and gone”, he says. “No lycra today. She left this for you”, handing her an envelope and a key.

 Serena puts the envelope and key on her tray and enters her office, which is unlocked. She sits and opens the envelope, already knowing what she is going to find.

_Dear Professor Hanssen and Dr. Campbell,_

_It is with deep regret that I am writing to offer my immediate resignation from the position of Teacher Training Co-ordinator at HIEC._

_It was a great honour to have been selected for this position and to have spent these weeks working in such a professional environment. It has become increasingly clear to me, however, that I cannot continue in the knowledge that my family situation may, at any time, impact negatively on my colleagues and on HIEC’s reputation. Marcus Dunne, my ex-husband, has worked at Holby University for many years, and my presence here is clearly uncomfortable for him and for you, and especially for Alex Dawson, who is entirely blameless in this scenario. Rather than compromise my colleagues’ performance or expose any of you to further scandals or distractions, I have chosen to resign of my own free will._

_Yours sincerely_

_Berenice G. Wolfe PhD_

Serena gets up and looks in the bathroom. Bernie’s things have all gone. She sits back down heavily and calls Ric to come in, wordlessly handing him the letter.

 Ric reads and is grim-faced. “This is bad, Serena”, he says. “Bernie was absolutely the best thing that has happened to HIEC in a long time. She will be impossible to replace at short notice.” He pauses. Then continues, “You know, I think I’m stating the obvious when I say you were too hard on her”.

 “I was,” says Serena. “I can’t think what got into me…nervous about the DELTA practical, afraid of more scandal…”

 “I think it’s hardly scandalous for marriages to break up”, says Ric gently, having had five or six of his own go the same way, “and in this day and age, hardly scandalous for a woman to have a relationship with another woman. If people choose to gossip about that, we should be big enough to ignore it.”

 Serena, looking stricken, just nods.

 “And Bernie has already suffered enough. She’s still recovering from major surgery, and I know for a fact that her ex-husband has made her life hell”.

 “How do you know that?” Serena looks up.

 “Oh. ..overheard the odd tense phone conversation. And her son, Cameron, goes to my gym”.

 Serena is surprised. “You didn’t tell me that”, she chides.

 “Well, no, why should I? Forgive me for remarking on this, Serena, but it seems to me that you are a little too invested in Bernie’s private life. There wouldn’t be a touch of the old green monster now, would there? She is a very attractive woman after all.”

 Serena puts her face in her hands. “That obvious?” she mumbles.

 “Afraid so”, Ric smiles.

 “So what should I do?” she asks

 “Go and talk to her and persuade her to stay before Hanssen sees that letter and before we have all the teachers marching in here to demand her return. Here-“  he offers her a slip of paper. “Her new address”.

 “Oh, and..” he turns away from her, still smiling “while you’re there you might want to revisit  that old connection you have with each other”.

 Serena feels her face burning as she takes the paper and walks out to her car.

 

 


	7. Wish I didn't know now what I didn't know then

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Serena attempts a reconciliation and gets Bernie back on board. Bernie tries to calm things down and the wires get crossed once again. Serena feels frustrated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapter title is from Bob Seger’s "Against The Wind".

Serena draws up in front of the apartment block where Bernie is living. Not the best part of town, but also not so far from the university. She gets out of her car and presses the buzzer marked “Wolfe”. There is a long pause, and Serena feels sick with both apprehension and the after effects of too much wine. In Bernie’s place she would not be opening the door to someone who so had thoroughly excoriated her the previous day, but when Bernie answers and Serena says her name, Bernie buzzes her up.

 The apartment door is open, and Bernie is standing behind it dressed in loose sweat bottoms and a T-shirt. She has no shoes on, which at least suggests she won’t be running away anywhere. Serena enters and Bernie closes the door and follows her into a small living room, bare except for some framed family photos around the walls.

 “Coffee?” asks Bernie

 Serena nods. Bernie doesn’t meet her eyes, but Serena notices that she has a puffy look, as if she has been crying, and she is moving slowly, not like someone who has been out for a run.

While she makes coffee, Serena looks at the photos. There’s one of an elderly couple, obviously Bernie’s parents, together with a handsome fair -haired man in RAF uniform, whom she assumes is Bernie’s brother, and one of a much younger Bernie in a tight T-shirt, khaki pants and boots, in a desert somewhere, sitting on the front of a jeep with other young people, her hair whipped by the wind. Serena spends at least two minutes on that one before moving to  the other wall to look at  pictures of two children at various stages of development, the most recent showing a dark-haired young man of about 25 with his arm round a younger girl with shoulder length blonde hair and looking remarkably like Bernie. There is no sign of Marcus anywhere.

 When Bernie sets the cup down in front of Serena, Serena says, quietly “I came to apologise”.

 Bernie raises her eyes to Serena’s. “What for exactly?”

 “For making unproven accusations, for blaming you for something you probably had no control over…for verbal abuse that you didn’t deserve…”.

Bernie regards her silently. Then, stirring her coffee, she says, still looking down “I so admired you. I wanted to live up to your expectations, but my private life seemed to follow me wherever I went and I accept that it looked very bad for HIEC. Knowing that I may have compromised Dom and Morven’s assessments and Alex’s job, I felt I had to resign in order to protect those who just got in the way.”

 “Well, here’s the thing”, Serena smiles, “Dom and Morven are fine. They were extremely well prepared- by you, and they sailed through the assessments. I’ve debriefed them and I really don’t think there is much Cousins can fault them on.”

 Bernie raises her head slightly and nods, “That’s a relief”.

 “Then, it seems I was wildly exaggerating the effect someone so morally fixated as Imelda Cousins could possibly have on Guy Self- never was a man more appropriately named!” she adds sardonically in her velvet voice,  and Bernie raises her head, the ghost of a smile shaping her lips.

 “According to Self, your ex-girlfriend is something of a hot name in Project Evaluation and Self is not about to let that slip away. His business brain says expertise trumps pissed -off friend any day!”

 “You mean he actually didn’t fire Alex?”

 “No. She’s much more valuable to him than Marcus’ ego, so she will stay, and she could even  be seconded to the MA programme”.

 Bernie’s face lights up instantly. Serena wishes that she herself could inspire such a beautiful expression.

 “Serena, just forget for a second that Alex and I … you know, she is one of the best researchers and teachers Holby Uni could ever wish to find. If she can keep her job, that’s the best for everyone. And I can assure you, there is nothing between us now except friendship- so I can’t think she would cause any problems for you”.

Serena pushes down any residual jealousy and gets to the point. “Bernie, I came here to tell you that HIEC wants you to keep your job, too. I’m sorry if I gave you the wrong impression, that I went off the deep end….it’s as clear as day that the staff and teachers love you, we all know what incredible experience and possibilities you bring.. I was out of order…” she tails off.

 Bernie meets her gaze, her deep hazel eyes silently willing Serena to go on.

 “If truth be told, I was a bit …jealous.”

“Jealous?” Bernie is incredulous. “Of what, for God’s sake? Here you are, Director of Studies at one of the best university language centres in the UK, with an amazing team behind you who love and appreciate you. You’re a star, Serena. Also a very beautiful woman…” her voice tails off.  “I just don’t understand what you have to be jealous of”, she finishes lamely.

 Serena is stumped for words. Bernie clearly has no idea of how incredibly gorgeous she is, nor how talented compared with Serena and her peers.

 “Perhaps your workshop in the first week would be a good starting point for our conversation”, suggests Serena.

 “What? That video of the Omani teacher?” 

 “Yes, or rather, what it exemplified. You said that it is human nature to evaluate negatively, to start with an image of what things should be like, and deduct points. Let’s just say we’ve both been guilty of that.”

 Bernie thinks for a minute. “OK I see what you’re saying”.

 “All my life I’ve been trying to live up to my mother’s expectations, which were always out of reach. I failed, time and time again with her. So, although I’ve worked really hard to get where I am, and I’m proud of that, I also sometimes lack confidence. You seemed to be so naturally confident, and people just gravitate to you. I was envious of that ease, it meant I was more willing to listen to Imelda, even though what she said was preposterous- it also meant I couldn’t see how much you were suffering underneath. For that I am truly sorry, Bernie.  I never wanted to make you suffer.” She leans forward, maintaining eye contact and putting her hand on Bernie’s arm.

 Bernie twitches at her touch, so she takes her hand away, not wanting to make her uncomfortable. They sit looking at each other for a minute.

 “So, Bernie, can I tear up this letter, which Hanssen has not yet seen?”

 Bernie nods. “You know, Serena, I really love working at HIEC. I’m sure we can do amazing things. But I think we need to address the elephant in the room before we go any further”.

 “You mean…Casablanca?” asks Serena, fingering her pendant, heart rate accelerating.

 ”Yes”, says Bernie, breaking off eye contact and looking down at her hands. “We’ve never approached this topic but I sense this was something you would rather forget”.

 Serena raises her eyebrows. “How did you…I mean, why do you think that?”

 “You told me clearly that night that you were straight, and that this had only happened because you were drunk. I didn’t want it to seem that I had taken advantage of you.”

 “Nooooo, no, no Bernie. If anything, I took advantage of you, of your good nature. And let’s not forget that this was engineered by Siân, the devious minx.”

 “Ah, yes, so it was. Well, let’s blame Siân and the alcohol, plus a touch of sexual chemistry probably arising from the situation, and say no more about it. For goodness’ sake, we were kids. A whole lifetime of water has gone under the bridge since then. I think we need to have a clean slate before we work in a team because I can see how uncomfortable it has made you around me. I want you to know that this is not going to affect us in any way. You’re straight and I have since learned I’m actually… not, but that is of no importance in our working relationship. I want to earn your trust and to be the best team HIEC and Holby Uni could ever have.”

 Serena is momentarily crushed by a massive wave of disappointment. What was she hoping for? That Bernie would say she had been yearning for her after all those years when she had never attempted to get in touch? The reality is suddenly too stark, too obvious and her inner fantasy life has been exposed for what it is- nothing but a figment of her imagination. Yet part of her is rebelling against Bernie’s too easily reached conclusion about her sexual orientation. If her fantasies about Bernie over the years, and her reaction to her presence now, are anything to judge by, Serena’s sexual orientation is certainly not confined to only one camp. Serena realises, however, that this is a separate issue. What Bernie is saying is that she is not interested in Serena in that way, that she wants to be her friend and colleague only. Serena knows she will settle for that if it means she can keep Bernie in her workplace and close to her.

 “Well, OK, Major – which is what the boys are calling you- we can shake on that, but on one condition”.

 Bernie looks at her questioningly.

 “You come with us to Albie’s one of these  Friday nights and do the karaoke”.

 Groaning, Bernie agrees.

 Serena extends her hand “Serena Campbell, have we met?”

 Bernie takes it with a smile and they shake. Serena can feel her hand tingling and she holds on to Bernie’s hand for a little longer than necessary, squeezing affectionately.

 “Now, glad rags on, Wolfe, and let’s get back to the office. I’m buying lunch, OK?” 

***

 Jasmine Burrows is having lunch with Morven Digby and Jac Naylor in Pulses.

 “You mean Bernie actually resigned?” says Morven, pushing her soup bowl away, her despair obvious.

 “Well, what else could have been in that letter? And she gave back the key to Serena’s office, too. I saw her go in and take all her stuff out of the bathroom, like she was leaving”.

 “So what did Serena do?” asks Morven, anxiously.

 “I’m not sure. I saw her talking to Ric and showing him the letter but I was too far away to overhear what they said. Then Serena left. She looked kind of rough this morning anyway, like maybe she hadn’t slept. I’m not surprised, I mean, she gave Bernie a real tongue-lashing yesterday. She must be feeling bad about it”.

 Jac is forking up her salad in silence.

 “I’ve never seen Serena like that”, says Morven. “I mean, she was really pissed off with Imelda, you could see, but it’s not like Bernie really did anything wrong. Actually, she was brilliant, I just wanted to thank her after yesterday because she made me feel so confident and I had a good feeling by the end of the lesson”.

 “Well, according to what Imelda told Serena, and I heard ’cos the door was open- Imelda saw Bernie and Alex Dawson together in some place - kissing- while Bernie was still married, and she told Bernie’s husband about it.”

 “The bitch!”, says Morven

 “And now she’s seen them again here, so she made Serena think that Bernie and Alex are still together”.

 “And what if they are?”  Jac interjects, dropping her fork.  “Bernie’s practically divorced now.”

 “No, the point is, she made Serena think that Bernie had planned it all along- like she helped Alex get that job, and now she’s got her working here”.

 “And Campbell fell for that?” Jac’s incredulous and not a little scornful.

 “Like I say, it was weird, I’ve never seen Serena go off on one like she did yesterday.”

 “ Don’t look now, but it seems Bernie’s been reinstated”, says Jac gesturing across the room, to where Bernie and Serena are sitting down together with trays of food.

 Jasmine and Morven crane their necks.

 “Well at least Serena looks happier than she did this morning”, comments Jasmine.

 “They obviously kissed and made up”, Jac says sarcastically, but her mind is ticking over. She gets up and stops by their table on the way out.

 “All good now?” she asks. “Yesterday forgotten? “

 Both women turn and beam at her.  “Just a misunderstanding”, says Bernie.

 “Yes, all back on track”, smiles Serena.

 “Is the Project meeting still on for this afternoon then?” asks Jac.

 “Ooh yes, today’s the day when we deliver the Big News, isn’t it, Bernie?”, says Serena fluttering her eyelashes across the table at Bernie.

 “It certainly is”, says Bernie, smiling back with warmth in her eyes.

 Jac walks away, wondering.

***

 The Project meeting convenes at 3pm with a tangible air of excitement. Serena chairs the meeting, at which Bernie, Hanssen, Jac and Oliver are also present, with Jasmine taking minutes.  Serena gives the assembled group  her most brilliant smile.

 “I’m delighted to announce that after much deliberation, we have decided to bid for the Costa Rica Project. HIEC purchased the bid documents last week and, having assessed them carefully, Henrik, Bernie and I feel that we could put in a substantial bid.”

 There are grins and fist pumps all round. Oliver is particularly excited.

 “We have a distinct advantage in local language competence here- at least 3 Spanish speakers”, he says, with satisfaction.

 “Yes, and that will make you potentially Team Leader on the ground”, says Bernie.

 “Does that mean I get to go to Costa Rica for the bidding results?” asks Oliver hopefully. “No, afraid not”, says Serena, smiling. “The bid is being decided in Madrid, and it will be Bernie and I who will go to make our presentation if we are lucky enough to get shortlisted.”

 She smiles at Bernie, whose dark eyes are sparkling, the idea of a few days abroad with Serena not in the least unpleasant.

 “Now”, says Serena “let’s move to the practical details. Bernie, you and Oliver will write the actual proposal following the guidelines in the bid documents. Henrik and I will do the costings and financial plan. Henrik, we also need some insight into who else might be bidding and what sort of financial bid they could put in, so use whatever contacts you have to see what we may be up against.” He nods. “ The deadline for submission is two weeks from today. I propose we meet in one week to go over the outline of the proposal and your final list of team members. “

 Oliver is beaming as he leaves the room, and it doesn’t escape Bernie’s notice that Frieda, Xavier and Darren are lingering in the corridor waiting for him to come out. She sees claps on the back and high fives all round, and she smiles.

***

Serena leaves at 6pm, satisfied with the day’s achievements. Her disappointment at Bernie’s dismissal of their shared history is tempered somewhat by the work they have done together since lunch, and by Bernie’s obvious willingness to forget the previous day’s excesses and be friends with Serena.

 As Serena approaches the wine bar, she sees Siân is already there, a bottle on the table and two glasses.

 “Am I late or are you just eager to see me?” she asks.

 “Desperate to catch up on your latest romance”, twinkles Siân.

“Which would be…?”

 “The Casablanca Cowboy, of course! Don’t tell me you have nothing to report, I know you, Serena Campbell!”

 “Well, actually I do have nothing to report. Or nothing on the romance front anyway”.

 She recounts the events of the last two days and their discussion that morning.

 “So let me get this straight…..you shouted at her, accused her of nepotism and of carrying on with her ex  in front of you, you hounded her to the point that she actually resigned and then had to go and woo her back?”

 Serena looks embarrassed. “I know it sounds bad when you say it like that…”

 “Well how else can you say it? But why on earth go to such lengths to alienate her in the first place?”

 “I was jealous” admits Serena.

 “Jealous of…?”

 “Well, Alex for one. All long legs and gorgeous green eyes, and super intelligent to boot. Also,” she continues “jealous I suppose of how popular Bernie is with my colleagues. They seem to like her more than they like me”.

 “You’re unbelievable, you know that? You have this woman you’ve been mooning over for nearly 30 years working with you, bringing your Centre kudos galore, and, from what I’m hearing, even somewhat in awe of the great Serena Campbell and you have to go and screw it all up with some petty jealousy. Poor Cowboy, I’m amazed she came back. She **mus** t like you!”

 “But she doesn’t think of me in that way”, argues Serena. “She said so.”

 “No, that’s how you chose to interpret her words", says Siân the barrister. "Look at it from her point of view- you’re her boss, she’s trying to create a good impression, she needs and wants this job. First she gets outed by some smarmy little toad, so that means you know she’s gay. Then her ex turns up, and for a millisecond it looks as though she may have engineered them working together, even though she didn’t. There’s a one night stand in the background between you – the last thing she wants now is for you to feel threatened by her sexuality or awkward about the past. So she tries to put you at ease, she wants you to be comfortable so that you can work together. It’s perfectly clear to me. But that doesn’t mean she doesn’t fancy the pants off you!”

 “But why would she? I mean look at her! She could have anyone at all. She had Alex.”

 “But she doesn’t want Alex as a lover", points out Siân. “And don’t be naïve, Serena, you know damn well you’re a first class flirt and seducer of men and women alike- even if you don’t usually go beyond the verbal with women.  She obviously fancied you in the past or she wouldn’t have let herself be seduced by drunken Serena! But even then you went and told her you were straight- so she let you go. That was your first mistake.”

 “Agreed”, says Serena glumly. “Oh if only I had a magic bullet….”

 “Drink up, darling,” says Siân, pouring the rest of the wine bottle into Serena’s glass. “You just need to think a little more creatively”.


	8. Despacito (Slowly)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bernie and Serena gradually harmonise their working life and get the project together. Feelings under the surface are not always easy to read.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's an anachronism here- the song "Despacito" didn't hit the airwaves until April 2017, so we're a year early here. I had to include it because I see the huge impact it has had worldwide and personally I find it abhorrent, but yes, it's catchy, and whenever I go into cafes here in south-east Asia and see unsuspecting young people listening and tapping their foot without understanding the lyrics (or maybe they do!) I can see how it is successful.

 

When Bernie arrives at HIEC on the following Monday morning she is intercepted by Ric and shown to her new office. The management floor has been expanded and some of the unused smaller rooms knocked together to create a large, open plan space.

“Your new home”, says Ric, “we thought you and Serena would be more comfortable working in the same space instead of running back and forth to talk to each other.”

Bernie looks around. The furniture from her old office and Serena’s has been installed, together with Serena’s coffee machine, several filing cabinets, their desks, on opposite sides of the room with visitor chairs arranged in front and a new 3 seater sofa and coffee table are standing just under the window. The walls are freshly painted in a light colour and there is a glass front with blinds attached.

“Wow!” she exclaims, dropping her briefcase onto the sofa.

“Wow is right”, Serena’s voice come from behind her. “And as it’s all so new and tidy looking I think we should try to keep it that way, don’t you”, looking pointedly at Bernie’s briefcase, which has wobbled on the edge of the sofa and finally plopped untidily onto the floor 

“Oh sorry, yes, of course,” says Bernie, gathering up the offending article and tossing it unceremoniously onto her desk. Serena smiles at this. She can see that their two sides of the room will soon each be acquiring its own distinct character. 

“And don’t forget the bathroom’, Serena waves a hand at the ensuite, and Bernie goes over to have a look. There’s a sink, toilet and smart shower in a frosted glass cubicle. Bernie’s toiletries have already been installed in the shower. There are even 2 matching sets of towels in HIEC colours- lime and deep teal- folded on the shelf.

 “That’s..that’s…. did you do this for me?” asks Bernie

 “Well, not exclusively, but I thought that as we have this facility it would be silly not to make use of it” pausing “and is it totally beyond the realms of imagination that  I might take up some form of exercise requiring a shower afterwards?” she smiles flirtatiously, and Bernie colours a little, images of a naked Serena in the shower being hastily pushed to the back of her mind.

 “Er, no, of course not, brilliant idea”, she says. ”Did you think any more about the yoga class? I really recommend it”, and she moves around Serena as she leaves the bathroom.

 “Ah, yoga, well I’m not sure about that at the present time but we’ll see”, Serena gets a lungful of Bernie as she passes close to her and steps back, somewhat flustered, patting her hair as she goes to sit behind her desk.

 “Now, Ms Wolfe, I’ve sent Jasmine down to Pulses for refreshments, then as neither of us has classes until the afternoon, I suggest we get to grips with this project bid. How far along are you?”

 With cappuccinos, croissants and a fruit plate in front of them, they set to discussing the Costa Rica project bid. Bernie has done quite bit of work on it over the weekend.

 “I wasn’t sure whether HIEC has a template for the introductory chapter where we talk about its track record, but as I was told this is the first project bid, I thought I’d draft one anyway and see what you think”. She pulls up the file on her MacBook and hands the computer to Serena.

“I..um.. created this profile using my own work experience,  and looking at the records of the proposed project team members. I think it’s important that we lead with the huge advantage we have in terms of the broad skill sets and experience of our personnel, don’t you?”

“Oh absolutely”, says Serena, pulling out the cutest pair of reading glasses Bernie has ever seen and looking intently at the screen. After only a minute, however, she turns to Bernie, peering over the specs, her eyes creasing with warmth.

“Bernie, this is brilliant, really professionally written. Just carry on and write these introductory sections from scratch. This is much better than anything we may already have stored under “profiles”.”

“Um..if you scroll down…” Bernie says, and Serena quickly scrolls through the document seeing that Bernie has prepared all the necessary introductions to HIEC, their history, team track record and is well into the section on HIEC’s approach to the project bid. It is impeccably laid out, formatted exactly as specified in the bidding papers and Serena can tell by skimming the content that it is written by someone who knows how to write at a very high level 

“Bernie this is amazing, you must have spent hours on this over the weekend” she says 

“Well it’s not as if I have anything else to do”, says Bernie a little shyly. “My kids are not exactly invading my space – Cameron’s gone to London to get a hospital placement. He wants to be a surgeon, like Marcus. Charlotte’s at university in Southampton and is still not speaking to me. So time is something I have in abundance at the moment”.

Serena smiles sympathetically. “That’s a shame, but, if she’s at all like my daughter Elinor, I’m sure Charlotte will come around sooner or later. With Elinor it’s when she wants money or to be taken somewhere when her father’s busy.”

“Oh, she doesn’t live with you?”

“No, she chose to stay with Edward. He spoils her, I try to avoid that. It’s obvious which one of us she would choose,” says Serena, her lips forming a thin line and the creases on either side of her mouth deepening.

“So you live alone?” asks Bernie, trying to keep her voice light, sensing Serena’s disappointment with her daughter 

Serena grimaces. “I suppose you could say that. Elinor has a room she can use whenever she wants, which is rarely. My mother also used to live with me but she died a while back and I’ve never really got round to clearing out her room. So it’s just me and Jason most of the time.”

“Jason?” ask Bernie, her heart sinking a little.

“My Burmese kitten”, says Serena, her eyes creasing again with warmth. “Elinor got him for me three months ago after my last relationship break-up. He’s very challenging – I’ve already had to have my sofa re-covered- but I’ve got used to him now. And it makes a nice change to sleep with something small, soft and purring instead of big, hairy and snoring!”

Bernie laughs, her great guffaws echoing round the room. Ric puts his head round the door.

“Everything OK?”, he asks with a smile.

“Yes, thank you, Ric, I was telling Bernie about Jason”.

“Right”, he smiles at Bernie who is still trying to keep her laugh under control, “that’s something you have to see, Bernie. You’d never imagine a little ball of fluff like that could cause so much havoc! I’m more of a dog man myself,” and Ric disappears.

“You can say that again”, murmurs Serena. “Now where were we?  Oh yes, Bernie, it’s great that you’ve done so much work on this already but you must find time to relax and switch off at the weekend. Maybe you’d like to come round to my place for dinner some time and meet Jason?”

“Mm, I’d like that,” says Bernie, a warm  feeling coming over her.

Bernie begins to relax her guard more now around Serena as she gets a better sense of what makes her tick. She notices how easily Serena is able to charm those around her, especially the men. Henrik Hanssen, for example. Technically, Hanssen’s position is CEO, but in reality he is a figurehead appointed by the Board to ensure that HIEC represents the best interests of the university. Hanssen is a Professor in his own right and also has an office in the Faculty of Letters. Bernie is amused to find that his field is Semantics. With his emphasis on precision and his stiff, over-elaborate speech patterns, Bernie can imagine him sending lecture halls full of undergraduates to sleep.  But despite his apparent awkwardness, it is clear that Hanssen is both a very astute observer of human nature and particularly fond of Serena.

 The power at HIEC is really wielded by Serena, and she is a formidable boss- having been on the receiving end of her sharp tongue, Bernie can see why people try to stay in her good books, even Jac Naylor, who fears no one. As the week wears on and Bernie spends more time with Serena in the office, she also sees the undeniable affection that Serena has for all her staff -both academic and administrative- and the esteem they hold her in. With Ric, who, as Director of Operations, is just one peg down from Serena, she is teasing and flirtatious, as is he in return, but Ric has clearly got Serena’s back, as Bernie saw when a disgruntled part-time teacher came to complain about being fired and was threatening Serena. Ric had him removed in a flash and a few words in the teacher’s ear ensured he wouldn’t be setting foot in HIEC at any time in the near future.

The project bid is coming together well. At the meeting to discuss the first draft, Oliver, Bernie, Jac and Serena find themselves in agreement about the suggested approach and the outline of the curriculum design element.

“So, Ollie, how is the team shaping up?” asks Serena.

“Well, if I’m Team Leader, I’d be based in San José, the capital, inside the National University of Costa Rica.  The others would be deployed in the 4 key pilot regions and would cover those areas, visiting the schools in the remoter areas to monitor the pilot project. I have Xavier, Darren, Frieda and Morven all committed. 

“So, you’d be their Support person too?” asks Serena. “Wouldn’t that require a fair bit of travelling?”

“Yes, I’d have to combine the two roles”, says Oliver, “unless Bernie is on the team full time, in which case, we could split the roles”

Serena exchanges a look with Bernie. “I don’t think that was ever on the cards”, she says, looking carefully at everyone’s faces. “What do you think, Bernie?”

“I agree. While I’d plan to come out with you all for the first week, it’s hardly practical for me to be tied up full time on an overseas project when there is so much else I need to be doing `here. No, you need an extra person with the right experience”.

“And we know exactly the person”, says Jac, looking hard at Bernie 

Bernie colours a little. “If you mean Alex Dawson, then yes, I agree, but I think it would be improper for the suggestion to come from me”.

“Don’t worry, Wolfe, I’ll do it for you,” says Jac, who has been spending time outside the classroom with Alex in the last few days, picking her brains.

Serena is thinking hard. She can see at once the huge possibilities for HIEC in having someone like Alex seconded to the project team, as well as the benefits regarding internal university politics. And from a purely selfish perspective, sending Alex to Costa Rica also keeps her away from Bernie.

“I think, Jac, that you and I should interview her together. Would that suit everyone?”

“Can I join the interview?” asks Ollie.

“I don’t see why not”, replies Serena to Jac’s nod. “So that’s settled. Jasmine, please call Ms Dawson and ask her to attend a project selection interview this afternoon if she’s free”.

Alex saunters into HIEC at 2pm wearing black cargo pants, Doc Martens and a red T-shirt proclaiming her to be ‘Abu Dhabi English Teachers Karaoke Champion 2016’. Jac meets her at the door of the Teachers’ Room and looks her up and down.

“Planning to serenade Serena?” she asks, grinning.

“Not exactly. I was out on an ESP field trip this morning – working with informants in the organic farming sector. No one said I had to go home and change, so she’ll have to take me as she finds me”.

Jac says nothing, just pushes open the door to Serena’s office and ushers Alex inside. When she sees her, Bernie jumps up.

“I’ll just ..er.. go to the Teachers Room” she says nervously, giving Alex a nod in greeting.

Serena looks up. Alex gestures to herself and says “Sorry about the togs. Just came from deepest Somerset inspecting organic potatoes.  

“I’m sure we can overlook that, Ms Dawson”, says Serena smoothly, as Oliver joins them and they start the interview.

 Serena finds her previous antipathy waning the more Alex talks about her overseas postings and her long list of publications. She’s laconic, funny in a self-deprecating way and extremely modest despite her air of calm self-confidence. Serena can see immediately what an excellent team member she would be.

 “If you were selected for this project, you could be based in Costa Rica for at least two years”, says Serena. “Is that likely to pose any problem?”

 “Nope”, says Alex. “I’m currently footloose and fancy-free. If Prof Self is happy to let me go, I can up sticks at any time”.

 “Tell us about the karaoke”, says Jac, holding up her hand when she sees Serena’s expression, adding “this is relevant”.

 “You mean this?” Alex gestures to the words on her chest. ”Well, er.. I was part of this team training teachers in the Gulf to use a more varied range of classroom methodologies. One of the strategies we employed was teaching English through song….Jazz Chants, using pop songs for language exercises, that sort of thing. The teachers really got off on this, especially the women, and so at the end of the project they decided to have this Karaoke competition to see who was the best singer.  All rather silly.”

 “And you won?”

 “Um, yes, I did. Accident really.”

 “But you won singing one of your own songs, right?”, says Jac. Serena and Oliver look up in surprise.

 Alex is clearly somewhat uncomfortable. “I don’t know where you heard about that but I can guess. Yes, I do write songs, and I had written a few for the classroom. A local producer decided to make a CD of these songs for use as a classroom resource together with a workbook.  That’s how I came to sing one of them in the competition- it was by popular request”.

 “Do you speak Spanish?” asks Oliver, clearly interested.

 “No, not exactly, but I can sing ‘Guantanamera’ or ‘La Cucaracha’ in Spanish if you like”. Everyone laughs. “I’m willing to take a crash course in Spanish before the project starts, if that is an issue.”

 After she has left, Serena sits back in her chair thoughtfully.

“I think we can all agree that Alex Dawson would be a perfect addition to our team. But where does that leave you, Oliver? She is senior to you, after all, in terms of qualifications and experience”.

 “Let’s bring Bernie back in” suggests Jac.

  “I think you’ll find that Alex is not interested in power as such”, says Bernie. “She would be best employed in the peripatetic support role- we planned to call it Field Co-ordinator- leaving Oliver as Team Leader in San Jose. The support role is actually the more challenging of the two and requires a lot of travelling, which Alex is fine with. She’s more hands on than a paper-pusher anyway. And she can be in charge of the post-pilot evaluation, of course.”  
****

“If she’s up for that, I think she’d be a great person to have on the team, and someone who could also give me a lot of support”, says Oliver.

 “Well, that’s settled, then,” says Serena. “Jasmine will prepare an official offer letter for Alex 

“And her guitar has to go too as an essential part of the deal”, says Jac, winking at Bernie.

***

 By Friday afternoon, Bernie and Oliver have completed the project proposal, the team member CVs, and Serena has done the costing. All it requires now is for Henrik Hanssen to give it a look over before they submit it.  
****

“Albie’s- the postgraduate bar- tonight?” asks Serena as she and Bernie are packing up at the end of the day. “There’s a Latin Music Special Karaoke session, thanks to our enthusiastic project team members.”

 “Why not?” says Bernie, who, apart from a pizza with Cameron the day before he left for London, hasn’t had an evening out since she joined HIEC.

 “They finish teaching at 7.00 pm over the road”, says Serena, “and some of our chaps have evening classes running till 8.30pm, so I think the karaoke won’t start till they’re all there. How about a quick bite before we go to Albie’s? My treat.”

 “That sounds like a plan”, says Bernie. “What did you have in mind?”

 “There’s a good Lebanese café just down the road if that’s OK with you. It’s quick and they have lots of choice of mezze”.

 “Perfect”, says Bernie, always happy with Middle Eastern food.

 Before they leave, Bernie notices that Serena has shed her suit for a more informal floaty blouse over a silk camisole,  and swapped her heels for leopard print ballet pumps. She has obviously also touched up her lipstick and sprayed herself with something musky and exotic. Bernie wonders if all this is for her or just because they are going to Albie’s later. She decides it must be the latter.

 The restaurant is not yet busy so they have their choice of table. Serena orders the mezze sharing platter and a bottle of Lebanese red, Bernie nodding her acquiescence.

 “So -the relationship break up?” asks Bernie, dipping a carrot stick into the hummus. “What happened?”

 Serena sighs. “At first he was attentive and it was flattering, but after a few months it all got rather…boring. Robbie’s a DI in the police force so his hours were very irregular. It was hard to make fixed dates, for one thing. But then, just when I fancied a night in by myself, he’d turn up on my doorstep at midnight and expect me to pander to his whims. It didn’t help that Elinor couldn’t stand him- called him potato-head,” she giggles.

 Bernie lets loose one of her great honks, causing heads to turn, much to Serena’s amusement.

 “So what happened with you and Alex?” asks Serena, as more food starts to arrive.

 “I was torn up by guilt”, admits Bernie. “I had never been unfaithful to Marcus and it just felt wrong to be in this happy little bubble, in Afghanistan, where we had to hide our relationship as well. It all got rather-claustrophobic. When Alex was offered the job in the Gulf we decided it would be better to split.”

 “Is that when you knew you were….not exactly heterosexual ? Or were you aware before that?”  Serena is almost holding her breath in anticipation of the answer.

 Bernie looks down, she is tormented by the desire to tell Serena the truth- that she knew in her heart and in her mind the moment she kissed Serena in Casablanca, and that she had been devastated by what she had discovered that night about herself. But she doesn’t want Serena to be uncomfortable with her.

 “Oh, I had wondered over the years why sex with men was never all it was cracked up to be, but I just went with the flow, I didn’t really have the urge to experiment, especially once I got involved with Marcus. Then I was pregnant with Cam, so we got married and, well, the years just rolled past.”

 “I know how that happens”, says Serena grimly. “But now you’re free to choose who you really want to be. That must be very liberating”.

 Bernie gives a small, sad smile. “I suppose so but I’ve hardly had any time to think about it with all the recent …traumas.”

 “That will soon pass, believe me”, Serena reassures her. “And if my ears haven’t deceived me I believe you’ve already caught the attention of some of the younger ladies among us”.

 “Oh no, that’s not at all what I’d….I mean, I’d probably feel more comfortable with someone in the same…age group” she finishes lamely, dropping her head, in case Serena can read anything in her eyes.

 “But I’m not looking at the moment”, she adds hastily. “I want to get the divorce out of the way first”.

 Serena feels a quiver of excitement pass through her but keeps her voice steady.

 “Very wise”, she says, smiling warmly at Bernie. “More wine?”

By the time they get to Albie’s, both are warm from the half bottle of wine each consumed. Serena finds them a table and unfastens her shirt buttons, fanning herself. The silk camisole she is wearing underneath clings to her breasts. Bernie swivels her eyes away and offers to go to the bar, returning with a bottle of Serena’s favourite Shiraz and two glasses.

“I’ve been assuming all evening that you drink the same thing,” says Serena apologetically, “but do feel free to have something else if you’d rather”.

 Bernie, who prefers beer or whisky or, at a push, Sauvignon Blanc, shakes her head. “It’s fine, I like a glass of red for a change”. She is enjoying seeing this new unbuttoned Serena. She really is a very beautiful woman, she thinks, as she takes in Serena’s warm, deep brown gaze over the rim of her glass, that dimple in her chin, and the hint of voluptuousness in her cleavage. Bernie is feeling rather warm herself when Morven and Ollie arrive, and Serena invites them to join her and Bernie at the table.

 “You know about the Latin music fest tonight?” asks Oliver. “So what are you going to sing for us Ms Campbell?”

 “You’ll just have to wait and see”, Serena twinkles. “I’m more of an opera person myself,  and Italian rather than Spanish, so it’s a difficult choice”.

"What about you, Bernie?” asks Morven. “We’re all waiting to see what you’ll sing”.

 Bernie lets rip with her honking laugh “Oh that’ll be the day”, she says “I can’t sing, you would absolutely NOT want me to get up there and ruin it for everyone”.

“Everyone has to sing”, implores Morven.

“It’s OK Bernie, we’re going to do a group Guantanamera at the end…you can join in with that instead of doing a solo,” says Ollie, making a face at Morven.

Serena turns, hearing a commotion and sees Xavier and Darren arrive together with Alex and Frieda. Alex is wearing black skinny jeans, a tight V-necked white T-shirt and a black leather waistcoat, her short hair gelled back. Frieda is attired in full Goth including the make- up. 

“Wow, it looks as though we are in for a show”, Serena remarks. Bernie cranes her neck to look and Alex smiles and waggles her fingers at her. Bernie thinks that she and Frieda look very good together somehow, despite their different styles. Xavier and Darren have black T-shirts black jeans and are wearing large neck chains, ray-Bans and trilbies. Darren even has tattoos painted all over his arms. Morven sighs.

“Oh no,” she says, “they’re going to do “Despacito”. I heard them practising this afternoon.”

“What’s that?” asks Bernie, as Serena grimaces into her wine and Ollie goes pink.

“Probably the most played Latin song of all time”, he says.

“Yes”, Morven chips in “and that’s only because people can’t understand the words. If they could, I bet at least 50% of them wouldn’t want to listen to it any more”.

“Oh come on, Morven it IS very catchy. And Latin lyrics are often quite sexy,” says Ollie.

“This isn’t sexy, it’s creepy”, says Morven, and Ollie shuts up.

Bernie looks at Serena who shrugs her shoulders, recalling the argument with Elinor who called her a stuffy old prude because she read the lyrics on Elinor’s iPad when she was playing the song on repeat through her Bluetooth speaker much to Serena’s annoyance. Let’s not go there, she thinks.

 More people are arriving and the barman is putting in more tables to make space. With four people round their table, Bernie’s knees are touching Serena’s under the table and she is practically mainlining her musky perfume. The open shirt reveals her exposed neck and collarbones. Bernie is starting to feel extremely uncomfortable, especially when Serena presses even closer to her, their hands almost touching on the table top.  She is relieved when the karaoke machine starts up and Alex and Frieda go together to the stage. Bernie is no stranger to Alex singing, of course, but seeing her do Ricky Martin’s “Qué Más Da” in Spanish with Frieda, the two of them dancing exaggeratedly, is a welcome distraction from her discomfort.  Alex does a perfect parody of the sultry, posturing Latin male, and Frieda with her deadpan Goth face has everyone crying with laughter as she gyrates sexily alongside.

 “She says she can’t speak Spanish”, mutters Oliver, “but she must learn fast”.

 “Oh, Alex is a bit of sponge when it comes to languages”, laughs Bernie. “You’ll see, she’ll have everyone eating out of her hand within an hour of touching down. If we get to Costa Rica, of course”.

 The song comes to an end, and Morven goes to the stage with Dom, performing a camp version of Shakira’s song “Suerte”. Meanwhile, Alex and Frieda have gravitated to Bernie’s table. Everyone in the room except Bernie and Serena jump up, as the chorus arrives, waving their arms above their heads from side to side singing “ _Contigo, mi vida, quiero vivir la vida_ ”.

 Serena looks at Bernie “Ever felt like an old codger?”

 “Oh all the time. I really don’t take much notice of pop music”, laughs Bernie, giving Serena a tender smile in sympathy.

 “Uh-oh”, Morven is back, being clapped on the back by Ollie and Frieda. “Look what’s next” she says, rolling her eyes.

 Xavier and Darren have taken the stage, and “Despacito” starts up. Xavier is doing the lead vocals as his Spanish is better.

  _Tú, tú eres el imán y yo soy el metal  
Me voy acercando y voy armando el plan_

(You are the magnet and I am the metal

I’m getting closer and making a plan)

 He leers from behind his glasses as Darren does the “Oh yeah’s” in the background.

 “For God’s sake”, says Morven. Frieda is fiddling with her phone. “Hm, I see what you mean”, she says, offering her phone to Bernie and Serena who now have a translation of the lyrics in front of them. Bernie runs her eyes quickly down the words feeling herself get warmer as she senses Serena next to her, reading the same thing

  _Slowly_

_I want to breathe in your neck slowly_

_Let me murmur things in your ear_

_So that you remember if you’re not with me_

_Slowly_

_I want to undress you in kisses slowly_

_Firmly in the walls of your labyrinth_

_And of your body, I want to create a manuscript_

“Yes, rather explicit”, mumbles Bernie, passing the phone back to Frieda.

 “It’s disgusting is what it is” says Morven.

 “I never had you down as a prude, Morven”, says Serena teasingly, inching away from Bernie as she tries to cover her embarrassment.

 “It’s not that”, Frieda breaks in. “The whole song is about this guy looking at this woman and wanting to do things to her. He’s almost, like, stalking her. But there’s nothing about what she might want or whether she agrees. That’s why it’s creepy. She’s just an object, not a person”.

 Ollie is about to counter her argument but one look around the table changes his mind. His song is up next and he and Raf do a good take on an Enrique Iglesias number which again has everyone singing.

 The Shiraz bottle is empty and Bernie heads for the bar, happy to stretch her legs and escape for a few minutes from Serena’s enticing warmth. When she returns, Serena is not there. Bernie assumes she’s gone to the ladies, but then she hears people chanting “Se-re-na, Se-re-na”, and Serena appears on the stage.

 “I didn’t know she was really going to sing” Bernie whispers to Morven.

 “Oh, it’s traditional, Ms Campbell loves karaoke when she’s had a few glasses of wine”.

 Bernie is now aware of Alex sitting on her other side. “You were great”, she says, “haven’t lost your touch, Dawson”.

 “Cheers, Bern”, and she clinks her beer bottle against Bernie’s wine glass.

 Serena is introducing her song. “I ‘m not sure this qualifies as ”Latin” exactly, but it’s in Spanish and is well known to anyone over fifty. I’m handing out the words and the translation for all you young things so you can damn well sing along. Here we go.”

 The music kicks in and Serena starts singing.

  _Siempre que te pregunto_  
_Que cuándo, cómo y dónde_  
_Tú siempre me respondes_  
_Quizás, quizás, quizás_

 _(_ Whenever I ask you

When, how and where

You always reply

Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps)

 Serena’s rich contralto is like velvet on the ears. Bernie sits up in her chair, amazed, her mouth slightly open.

 _Y así pasan los días_  
_Y yo desesperando_  
_Y tú, tú, contestando_  
_Quizás, quizás, quizás_

 (And so the days go by

And I’m growing desperate

And you just reply

Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps)

 Bernie knows the song, her parents used to play the Nat King Cole version on their record player at home. The words come back to her, and the meaning.

 _Estás perdiendo el tiempo_  
_Pensando, pensando_  
_Por lo que más tú quieras_  
_Hasta cuándo, hasta cuánd_ o

(You’re wasting time

Thinking, thinking

For God’s sake

How much longer, how much longer?)

 Serena looks over to where Bernie is sitting and their eyes meet. Bernie feels a shiver go through her at the expression in Serena’s eyes, wondering if it is her imagination or whether Serena is really trying to send her a message. As Serena goes into the next verse she invites everyone to sing along.

  _Y así pasan los días_  
_Y yo desesperando_  
_Y tú, tú contestando_  
_Quizás, quizás, quizás_

Bernie feels Alex leaning into her. “I think you’ve got an admirer”, she says.

 “Who, Serena? That’s ridiculous!”

 “I’m serious. That’s lust on tap, take my word for it. I had my suspicions when I saw how upset she was that time she thought we were still together. Now it’s confirmed. You should go for it, Bern, she’s hot”

 “She’s straight”, says Bernie, now not quite believing it herself.

 “Yeah”, says Alex. “And I’m the Fairy Queen. Whoops”, sliding out of the chair and moving some distance away. “Don’t want to make her jealous”.

 Serena returns to the table getting clapped  and cheered all the way. Bernie pours her a glass of wine and has it ready for when she sits down.

 “Gosh, thanks, just what the doctor ordered”, she says taking a sip.

 “That was ..um ..amazing”, Bernie says. Serena gives her a beautiful smile that goes all the way to her eyes.

 “Thank you. I often think the older numbers work better at these karaoke sessions. Then everyone can sing along. You did know that song, didn’t you?”

 “Yes, I did. My dad had the record”, says Bernie, smiling back. Serena holds her gaze for a second too long and Bernie feels her heart give a little flip, then she feels Alex’s kick under the table. She moves a little closer to Serena, but at that moment  Ollie is announcing the group song- everyone on the Project team will sing “Guantanamera”, so Bernie and Serena are dragged onto the stage together with Morven, Frieda, Darren and  Xavier. Alex has vanished but then reappears with her guitar, pulling a scowling Jac behind her to make her join in.

 “OK people, you all know this. Ollie will give you a recap of the words and we’ll all do a couple of verses then everyone else can join in”.

 Bernie is a terrible singer but in the group she feels more secure, mostly mouthing the lyrics while Serena next to her sings for both of them. By the time the song ends, Bernie is aware that she is not in the least sober and neither is Serena.

 “Well, that was a really good evening”, she says. “But I should head for home.”

 “Me too,” says Serena. “Shall we share a taxi?”

 “Is it on your way?”

 “More or less- I can be dropped first actually, I’m a bit closer”.

 “OK then, let’s call an Uber”.

 The atmosphere in the taxi is less intense than earlier, Bernie is relieved to notice. She realizes that she is feeling unsure of herself- Serena, deeply attractive though she undeniably is, has a tendency- much enhanced by Shiraz- to flirt with everyone. Bernie is afraid to read too much into it.

 “Well here we are, this is me”, says Serena as the taxi comes to a halt. “I was wondering,“ turning to Bernie ,“whether you’d fancy coming over tomorrow for dinner?“ She says this with a little shy flutter of her eyelashes which signal apprehension.

 “Thanks, I’d really like that”, says Bernie. “What time would suit?”

 “About 7, OK? Do you have any food allergies or specific preferences?”

 “No, apart from mayonnaise and anything involving liver or kidneys”, smiles Bernie.

 “Right, so I take it my famous _Rognons au X_ _é_ _r_ _è_ _s_ will have to wait. Damn, all that sherry wasted!”

 “No, Serena, if you’ve made something special it’s fine, really, I can eat anything…” Bernie protests, but Serena reaches over and plants a kiss on her cheek.

 “I’m teasing you, Major! See you tomorrow and thanks for a lovely evening”.

 Bernie feels the kiss burning on her cheek, but Serena is out of the car and the door closes.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> songs :
> 
> 1\. Shakira : https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=a8Rwz6zBJSE  
> 2\. Despacito:https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kJQP7kiw5Fk  
> Translation:https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OD7AdmG9QfM  
> 3\. Quizás (Andrea Bocelli version with Jennifer Lopez) https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ojHMmvp6QhU  
> 4\. Guanatanamera :https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MRTC3cfWfGk  
> (No apologies, I'm a fan of Joan Baez's version. She is bilingual after all).
> 
> Rognons au Xérès= kidneys in sherry sauce


	9. The way she moves in the logic of all my dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bernie goes to dinner with Serena - and Jason- and gets more than she bargained for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The M rating comes back into force here.
> 
> Chapter title is from "Desert Rose" by Sting with Cheb Mami.

“Jason, stop that”, Serena calls through to the living room where her Burmese kitten is attacking Eleanor’s bean bag and trying to rip the stuffing out of it. Bright green eyes look up, challenging, then he rolls on his back and starts hitting the bag behind him while stretching.

  _I give up_ , thinks Serena. _Unless I hide all the furniture I’m just going to have to put up with it. I can’t be watching him all the time_. When she goes to work, she closes all the doors in the house except the living room so that he has space to run around and play, and she has got him a scratching post which, of course, he won’t use, preferring to scratch his claws on the recently re-covered armchairs.

 Serena is trying to reconstruct her favourite Moroccan recipe- chicken tagine with preserved lemons and olives- she even has a clay tagine dish she bought on a trip to France some years ago. Once it is in the oven and she has soaked her couscous, left it to fluff up and then rubbed it with olive oil, adding a little sea salt and  cinnamon, she has to think what to wear. Thanks to Jason continually distracting her, it is now six pm, and Serena wants to shower, wash her hair and change before Bernie arrives.

 Bernie is still in her lycra from a run and surveying the meagre pickings in her wardrobe. She has one smart navy trouser suit, five shirts- two white, one black, one striped and one plaid- two pairs of black skinny jeans, one pair of faded blue jeans and one pair of stretch, flat front cotton chinos in a light sand colour. The weather has been improving of late, so maybe the chinos would be OK. As she rummages around, she realises that Cameron has left a soft, dark denim shirt in her wardrobe  that  had obviously been washed  with her own stuff. She tries it on and finds it is a perfect fit if she leaves it open over a camisole top and rolls up the sleeves. It’s crumpled so she gets out her iron and gives it a quick once over, laying it on her bed. After showering she blasts her hair with the hairdryer, fluffing it with her hands and not bothering to brush it, and sprays a little of the hideously expensive perfume the kids bought her for her birthday, before the split with Marcus. As she inserts her simple gold stud earrings and adds a plain gold bracelet, she feels nervous. She has chosen underwear that is flattering without screaming for attention- a cream bra and knickers set with just a hint of lace, and a white ribbed vest top. There’s nothing she can do about the vivid scar that bisects her chest or the smaller one on her neck, but she puts on some soft pink lipstick to take her mind off it.

 It's now six thirty and Bernie doesn’t want to arrive too early in case Serena isn’t ready, so she goes onto her tiny balcony and smokes a cigarette, trying to chase away the butterflies. As she finishes the smoke, she realises that she hasn’t bought anything to take to Serena, so she panics and rushes to her car, pushing her feet into her driving mocs and her arms into her leather jacket and grabbing her handbag.

 Serena stands in her bedroom in a lacy black bra and knickers having taken off the third floaty blouse in a row and discarded her black work trousers. All her casual clothes look the same to her- boring. Finally she chooses a pair of nicely cut charcoal stretch trousers and a silky turquoise top that falls to mid-hip level with a low scoop neck and that clings to her breasts. She remembers how Bernie had paid attention to her breasts the night they spent together, so thinks it won’t hurt to show them off a bit. As she goes downstairs to finish the dinner, her phone rings.

 “What are you wearing?” says a familiar voice. Serena sighs.

“Trousers and a top”, she says resignedly.

 “A clingy top, I hope”, says Siân, “tits on display”.

 “I’m not trying to be a Page Three model”, she says crossly.

 “Come on, Serena, you know you like people to admire them. What about underwear?”

 “The black lace set”.

 “Nice”, says Siân. “And how did you plan the seduction?”

 “I thought I’d make a Moroccan recipe and see where the conversation takes us.”

 “OK Tiger, go for it. And keep that kitten’s claws away from her. Nothing more annoying than having kitty cat interrupt your intimate moments”.

 “Right- oh there goes the doorbell, must hang up”.

 “I want a FULL account tomorrow, do you hear”.

 Serena cuts her off and goes to the door. Jason is hiding behind her feet and she is afraid he will dash outside, so she scoops him up as she opens the door.

 “Bernie…..”

 Bernie is looking somewhat flustered, her hair a riot of blonde curls, she’s clutching a bottle of wine in one hand and has a large untidy bunch of flowers in the other.

 “Hi Serena, hope I’m not late- oh is this Jason?” eyeing the dark brown kitten in Serena’s arms.

 “Yes, this is he….Jason, say hello to Bernie. Bernie, do come in”, and Serena steps back to give Bernie space to enter, then closes the door and deposits the kitten on the ground.  Jason looks up at Bernie, his green eyes very wide.

 “Hello Jason, what a handsome boy you are”, says Bernie.

 They go into the kitchen, Jason following.

 “Here let me take those”, says Serena, relieving Bernie of the flowers and wine. “I say, tulips, aren’t these lovely? And Shiraz- oh Bernie, this is an expensive one, you shouldn’t have, but thank you so much.”

 Bernie slips off her jacket and Jason immediately tries to snag his claws on the leather sleeve.

 “Oh watch out, Bernie”, laughs Serena, lifting the jacket away from the playful kitten. Why don’t you go and hang this in the hallway safe from scratchy claws, and I’ll put these flowers in a vase.”

 When she comes back, Bernie is looking around, appreciating the modern kitchen with the breakfast bar, the conservatory on the side, everything clean and bright.

 “What a lovely house”, she exclaims.

 “Yes, a perfect  family home, in fact it WAS a family home until I threw my philandering husband out. This was a legacy of the divorce. Of course, the idea was that it would continue to be Elinor’s home, too, but things didn’t quite work out that way.”

 They’re still standing in the kitchen, so Serena pulls out a bar stool and gestures for Bernie to sit while she pours wine for them both and puts her couscous in the oven.

 “I hope you like Moroccan food, I thought it might be our theme for the evening”, says Serena, throwing green beans and finely chopped garlic into a pan with some melted butter.

 “Ha, yes, well I had plenty of it, back in the day.”

 Bernie is watching Serena moving confidently around the kitchen, suddenly aware of how clingy her top is under the apron she’s wearing. She starts to feel warm and takes another sip of wine to cover her confusion. Her attention is drawn to a strange sensation on her leg, and suddenly, Jason is clambering into her lap, having shinned up the barstool. She strokes his soft fur, and he purrs, but she can feel the sharpness of his claws as he holds onto her trousers. She is afraid he will cling to her chest and scratch her on her scar.

 “Um, Serena”, she starts tentatively, but Serena is quicker off the mark, reaching over and removing Jason from Bernie’s lap.

 “I’m sorry, Bernie, he’s very friendly and affectionate, but sometimes it can be too much”.

 “Yes, I..um.. “ she gestures to the top of her white vest where the scar can clearly be seen.

 “Oh good lord, yes, of course, I had forgotten that. Don’t worry, I’ll shut him in the conservatory while we have dinner or he may try to eat your dinner as well!” and she takes a clearly protesting Jason out into the adjoining room, where his food and water are already laid out, and closes the door.

 “Now why don’t we go into the dining room and have the starter, she says, switching off the gas ring and the oven.

 The table is laid with Moroccan themed napkins and coasters, and there are salads and dips already laid out. Bernie relaxes and looks round the room. Family pictures everywhere, light coming in from the French windows where the connecting door to the living room is open, and Bernie sees a sofa and armchairs, lots of cushions all in complimentary colours. It’s exactly as she had imagined Serena’s house to be.

 The food is delicious, and Bernie tucks in hungrily.

 “This dip is yummy”, she says, piling it on her pitta bread, “what’s in it?”

 “Broad beans”, says Serena, “and some spices. It’s supposed to be a speciality of the Marrakesh region”.

 “Oh, really? I have to say I never encountered it in Marrakesh, but then, we hardly ate fine cuisine. Whenever we hit Marrakesh we used to go to the main square and eat at the food stalls. Mostly fried chicken or kefta and that harira soup”.

 “Where is it you were based, Ouarzazate, wasn’t it?”

 “Yes- how did you know that?” she asks. “I don’t remember telling you”.

 “No, you didn’t”, Serena admits. “I, um, sort of kept in touch with Sarah after that party. I used to see  her and Jonathan at local teachers’ meetings and workshops sometimes. They told me where you were”.

 Bernie stops eating and raises her eyebrows. “You….asked them?”

 Serena is bashful now, she colours and looks down. “Yes, I did”, she confesses quietly.

 “Why would you do that, Serena? I got the definite impression you didn’t want to keep in touch.”

 “I don’t know”, says Serena awkwardly. “I just thought if you came to Casa again I might bump into you, that’s all”.

 Bernie is looking at her steadily.

 “Well, as you already know, that didn’t happen, so let’s not dwell on it. Let me get the main course”, and Serena goes back to the kitchen, her cheeks burning.

 Over the tagine, which Bernie praises several times, Serena tries to steer the conversation away from herself and onto Bernie.

 “So what was there to do in Ouarzazate?” she asks. “I never made it that far, you know”.

 “Not a lot. There were three of us posted in and around the town so we hung out together. One guy had a car and we used to go on trips to the High Atlas or the Valley of the Thousand Kasbahs”.

 “And Marrakesh”.

“Yes, that was the nearest metropolis, if I can call it that. There was that hair-raising drive over the Tizi ‘n’ Tichka Pass to get to Marrakesh. I used to take a _grand taxi_ , you know those Mercedes with 6 seats that only departed when all the seats were full. God, talk about taking your life in your hands,” she laughs. “They used to overtake on blind bends, thinking that Allah would protect them. They all had these little Hands of Fatima hanging from the rearview mirror, like a symbol of that protection. It was crazy. I’m amazed we survived!” She pauses to sip her wine.

 “Of course, now it’s all guided tours, I believe Ouarzazate has a number of five star resorts etc. Very different. It was a real one horse town in my day. ‘The Gateway to the Sahara’ as in the last town with electricity or tap water or something”.

 “One horse town- that reminds me, Siân called you ‘Cowboy’- those boots and your suede waistcoat”.

 “Hm, yes, Siân”, says Bernie, helping herself to more couscous and green beans.

 “So how did you meet Marcus? I mean you hardly seem to have been in the UK long enough to meet anyone”.

 “It was in Morocco actually”, Bernie said, not making eye contact with Serena.

 “Really? Was he on your project?”

 “No, he was a UN volunteer. His mother had connections, she helped him get a place on a new medical project. I met him about 6 months after that party, in Casablanca believe it or not, the British Consul invited all the project, volunteer and NGO Brits to a bash for the Queen’s birthday and he just kind of stuck to me after that”.

 Bernie has a sudden flashback to that day in Casablanca. She had been hoping to bump into Serena, although 6 months without any sort of contact had only reinforced the idea that Serena was not interested. Bernie had felt miserable, the party was predictable, she was due to go home for the summer vacation at the end of the month, an endless period of nothingness she was dreading, and suddenly this charming and quite attractive young doctor introduced himself to her, and she couldn’t think of a single reason to say she wasn’t interested. That day led to all these years gone by, to two children she could never regret, but to a long and mostly empty marriage in which, for the last few years, she had realised the only person she was kidding was herself. She put down her knife and fork.

 Serena senses her feeling of deflation. “I’m sorry, Bernie, if that memory makes you sad, given what happened to the marriage”, she says, putting her hand gently on Bernie’s arm. _Yes, of course it does,_ thinks Bernie. _Not because of the stupid marriage but because I knew that day that I had lost you and that our paths  would diverge._

“But let’s look on the bright side- here you are, all those years later, single and able to do whatever you please”. She looks intently into Bernie’s eyes, the warmth of her gaze penetrating Bernie’s armour.

 “Let’s have a rest before dessert, eh? Would you like a cigarette? We can go into the conservatory if you like”.

 “OK, thanks”, says Bernie, taking her cigarettes from her handbag.

 Jason is delighted to see them and races over to Serena asking to be played with. They sit on the sofa watching the sun go down behind the trees. Bernie suddenly feels a peace and contentment she has not felt for a long time. She smokes her cigarette while Serena caresses and plays with Jason, regaling Bernie with funny stories about HIEC- Ric’s five or is it six wives, Henrik Hanssen’s strange habits, Jac finding out that Jasmine was her half-sister, until Bernie is laughing and feeling much happier.

 They go back inside and Serena serves a delicious fresh orange and cinnamon plate and an almond tart with crème fraÎche.

 “God, Serena, this is positively sinful,” sighs Bernie, cleaning her plate. “Did you make this tart?’

 “I’d like to say yes but I’m afraid I have to admit it’s Marks & Spencer’s finest”, she smiles.

 Finally, as they retire with their coffee to the sofa in the living room, Bernie asks the question that has been burning her for so long.

 “Did you ever think about me after that night in Casablanca?”, she asks."I mean, think about what..what  happened?"

 Serena is silent for a moment. She doesn’t want to lie to Bernie but feels that now is not the right moment for a full and frank confession.

 “Oh yes, I did. And, as I said,  I hoped I would bump into you again.”

 “So you kept in touch with Sarah for that reason? To try to ‘bump into’ me?”

 “That was one reason. But the longer time went by and I didn’t meet you again, the more I realised it was probably just a one off. Look, Bernie, it was complicated. I was, not to put too fine a point on it, rather shocked by what had happened. I know I was responsible for leading you on, God knows I was a terrible flirt in those days, and sometimes that led to things I would rather forget. But in your case, it kind of stuck in my mind.”

 Bernie doesn’t move, she is frozen in that memory of Serena asking her to kiss her again, having jumped into her bed, and of the place where that kiss had taken them, a place from which, for Bernie at least, there was no return.  She senses Serena moving closer to her, her evocative perfume enticing her, the weight of her breasts in the silky top, and she feels herself sliding helplessly adrift from her usual tight moorings.

 “Bernie”, Serena says gently, tangling their fingers together, “God, Bernie, I…”   she looks at Bernie with an intensity that almost takes Bernie’s breath away, her pupils dilated, her luscious lips so close. Somehow they gravitate together and then they are kissing. Serena has her hand in Bernie’s messy hair, gripping tightly with her fingers as she opens her mouth under Bernie’s and lets her feel her tongue. Bernie see stars exploding, she thinks she might have a heart attack, so intense is the release of tension when she feels Serena’s mouth opening under hers. Serena tastes of wine and almonds and cinnamon, but below the surface Bernie can taste the quintessential Serena taste she remembers from almost 30 years ago. She is vaguely aware that Serena is making little mewling noises, and her hands are starting to push Bernie’s shirt off her shoulders. Bernie feels her hands moving of their own accord all over the silky fabric of Serena’s top, caressing and squeezing her breasts. When she comes up for air, Serena is panting “Bernie, please…” as she struggles free to lift off her top.

 “Serena, stop.” Bernie pleads. Serena pauses, looks at her, eyes almost black, lips swollen.

“Are you sure this is what you want?”

 “Never been surer, Major”, whispers Serena, finally throwing the top on the floor and presenting her breasts in their lacy covering to Bernie’s disbelieving eyes. For a moment Bernie can hardly grasp the reality of the situation, then she hastily shrugs off her denim shirt and lowers her mouth to Serena’s breasts, taking the hard nipple between her teeth through the fabric, squeezing the other breast. Serena lifts herself impatiently and unfastens the bra while Bernie pulls it free and adds it to the pile of clothing on the floor. Once Serena’s breasts are released, Bernie spends time sucking, licking, nipping everywhere, squeezing and rolling the nipples until Serena is arching her back and moaning. She reaches to lift Bernie’s vest top and Bernie pauses and raises it over her head, leaving her in the cream bra which Serena can hardly wait to unfasten and discard. As their upper bodies come together in a fusion of deliciously soft, bare skin, Bernie lays  her smaller, sensitive breasts against Serena’s, gasping as her nipples graze the other woman's, their hips a perfect fit for each other. In all this rush and overload of sensation, Bernie is aware of Serena bucking her pelvis against Bernie's, desperately seeking friction, so she moves her hand down to undo Serena’s trousers.  Serena’s hand is instantly there, helping,  pushing the trousers down, out of the way, as Bernie cups Serena through the damp lacy black knickers and Serena moans loudly. Bernie has moved  the fabric aside, slowly entering Serena with one finger, the hot silky wetness drawing her in, hearing and feeling Serena’s intake of breath, when there is the sound of a key turning in the lock and of the front door being opened. It takes Serena a few seconds to process the sound, then she jumps up, pushing Bernie off and whispering in a panicked voice “Elinor”.

 Bernie is caught totally off guard, half naked and with her hand in Serena’s knickers. Hastily withdrawing it, she reaches for her vest top to pull it over her head. She throws Serena’s top at her, scooping their bras together and pushing them behind the sofa. Serena is in a total panic now, pulling down her top, fastening her trousers. She can hear the door to the conservatory being opened and a young woman’s voice saying “Jason, come here sweetheart”, then it takes but a few more seconds for footsteps to be heard coming towards the living room and opening the door.

 “Mum, why is Jason shut in the …oh!”

 Serena and Bernie have sprung apart and are mostly dressed, Bernie struggling into her shirt, but their hair is mussed and their faces red, guilt and embarrassment written all over them. 

 Elinor drops Jason, who scampers straight over to Serena, jumping up into her lap.

 “And who is this?” asks Elinor.

 “Elinor, this is Bernie, my friend”, begins Serena.

 “Mum- what on earth have you been doing? For God’s sake, don’t tell me you were having sex in the living room?” she says in a tone of total disgust.

 Serena tries to get her bossy DOS voice back on. “Of course not, don’t be ridiculous”, she says, “but this IS my house and if I want to entertain my friends here I don’t need your permission”.

 “But look at you, mum”, protests Elinor, who, Bernie notices, bears a startling resemblance to the young Serena, except for her rather unattractive pout.

 Jason has disappeared behind the sofa and now he reappears clutching Serena’s black lacy bra in his mouth. His wide green eyes look startled at his discovery.

 Bernie closes her eyes. Busted by a cat! She feels a wave of shame and humiliation break over her, her only instinct now to flee.

 “I need to  go”, she says, getting up and adjusting her shirt to cover her breasts.

 “No, Bernie”, says Serena. “You’re here because I asked you. Let’s all sit down and discuss this calmly”.

 “This? “repeats Elinor, her voice rising an octave, “What the fuck is ‘this’? Since when have you been a lesbian, Mum?”

 Serena is at a disadvantage  but she refuses to be intimidated by her daughter in front of Bernie.

 ‘Sometimes, Elinor, things are less black and white than they may seem”, she says with an air of authority. “And who gave you permission to come barging into my house without warning anyway?”

 “You gave me a key, Mum. Told me I had a room here any time I wanted”.

 “That’s true, Ellie, but you might have phoned me first as a courtesy, don’t you think?”

 “What, so that you can hide your perverted sexual activities from me?”

 “Nobody’s hiding anything”, says Serena forcing a note of calm into her voice. “This is just very new and we didn’t expect you”.

 “So I see. Well I think Ms whatever your name is”, nodding at Bernie, “you should go, I need to talk to my mum. And you need to leave her alone”.

 Bernie is only too happy to escape, can’t bear to be under Elinor’s judgemental gaze for another second. She grabs her bra from behind the sofa and stuffs it into her handbag with whatever dignity she can still muster and heads for the door.

 “Goodbye, Elinor”, she says.

 Elinor glares at her and doesn’t respond. Jason cocks his head in puzzlement and gives Bernie a big green stare. Serena scrambles to her feet “You and I will talk”, she tells her daughter, then, turning to Bernie, “I’ll walk you out”, she says

 At the front door, Serena says “I’m so, so sorry, Bernie. I had no idea she was even in Holby”.

 “It’s OK, Serena, I understand, it’s better if I go and leave you to sort things out. Thank you, in any case, for a wonderful dinner and a lovely evening.”

 Serena looks mortified still, torn between her desire to keep Bernie close and her need to put things right with Elinor.

 Bernie leans over and kisses her on the cheek. “Take care, Serena, your daughter is the priority here. I’ll give you space”. And she goes to her car and drives away. Serena turns back to the living room with a heavy heart.

***

 The following morning, after a sleepless night berating herself for dragging Bernie into such a mess, Serena waits until 9am before she calls Siân, conscious that it is Sunday.

 “Well, how did it go?” asks Siân.

 “Oh Sian, you can’t imagine what happened”. And Serena recounts the events of the preceding evening.

 “So, you’re saying that Cowboy had her hand in your knickers and you two were all set to rock and roll when the prodigal daughter arrived on the scene?”

 “More or less” admits Serena.

"Well, look on the bright side- how much worse could it have been? If Elinor had come 15 minutes or half an hour later, for example."

"Don't", shudders Serena.

 “So where is the daughter now?”

 “Sulking in her room, no doubt. She was really hostile to Bernie, I couldn't make her understand that this was something I might actually want to do. She thinks Bernie was practically raping me.”

 “Serena, Serena, you have to put yourself in her shoes for a moment to see what’s going on here. All her life she’s seen you with her father and other men, but never with a woman. It’s a shock, she’s in shock, and denial, coming across you both like that. You have to give her time to process.”

 “Right”, says Serena in a panicked voice. “And meanwhile Bernie will run away”.

 “What makes you so sure?”  says Siân.

 “Well, for one, she told me I had to prioritise my daughter’s needs. Then she made no attempt to call me or arrange a time to meet’.

 “But this must have been as big a shock for her as for you. And didn’t you say that her own daughter isn’t talking to her since she found about her affair with a woman?”

 “Yes, but…”

 “Serena, this is going to drive her deep underground. It will take time to get her back. First her own daughter is disapproving. Now yours. It’s important that you sort little madam quickly so that you can rebuild the relationship with Bernie.”

 “And how can I do that? We’ve all spoiled her, Sian, treated her like a princess. She already thinks I put myself before her, cut her out of my life, as you know. She won’t come round easily !”

 “I’m her godmother, Serena, so why don’t you leave her to me, and you focus on Bernie.”

 “Really?”

 “Yes. I have my ways and it’s time Princess Elinor learned about the real world in any case”.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kefta- spiced minced beef (or sometimes lamb) either made into flat patties or stick on skewers and grilled over a fire.  
> Harira- a hearty, slightly spicy soup traditionally eaten during Ramadan to break the fast, made with turmeric, milk, haricot beans, lamb, fresh coriander and vegetables. Available year round at street stalls.
> 
> The couscous grain is not normally eaten as a side dish in Morocco but as an integral part of a dish called "Couscous" which involves a lot of spices, vegetables and meat or fish. Normally tagine (stew) would be eaten with bread.
> 
> Page Three model: from 1970 the UK tabloid newspaper "The Sun" featured a topless female model on page three every day. In recent years there were many protests in an attempt to stop the practice but it was only finally discontinued in 2017.


	10. Back where we started

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Serena tries to make amends for Saturday, but Bernie is afraid of coming between Serena and Elinor. Serena is distressed and reveals too much of her feelings for Bernie, which makes Bernie back away from the relationship. Serena talks to Ric and Bernie talks to Dom and Alex. Sian takes Elinor to dinner and later she tells Serena what she has discovered. Sian then makes a decision to tell Bernie something she doesn't know about Serena.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of a filler while we wait for Project Mariposa (Butterfly) to firm up. But some important relationships cemented. (What's with this construction vocabulary?). Sian is the wild card here- there's an important reveal coming up in the next chapter, so, sorry about that, you'll have to wait a bit longer. I'm really enjoying writing Alex as Bernie's friend; I hope this keeps your interest.

When Serena arrives at HIEC on Monday morning, Bernie is already there, showered after yoga, in a cloud of that addictive Lime, Basil and Mandarin. Serena closes the door to their office and puts 2 cups of coffee down on the desk.

 “I tried to call you several times yesterday, Bernie, why didn’t you answer?” she asks.

 Bernie raises her head, peering timidly from behind her fringe. “I..I thought I should give you space. The last thing you needed was to be reminded of…”

 Serena sits down heavily. “Look, we’ve hardly had time to consider this….change in our relationship. Yes, it was deeply unfortunate that my wayward daughter showed up unannounced, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to be with you.”

 “But what about Elinor?” asks Bernie

 “Ellie has to learn to accept it. And, given time, she will. She’s my problem and I will deal with her. I don’t want it to affect us”.

 “ ‘Us’? “ asks Bernie.

 “Yes, us, this relationship, whatever it is. I think after Saturday we need to talk about how to take it forward - in a way that is transparent, if you see what I mean ..” Serena ends awkwardly.

 Bernie is pale and frozen at the word ‘transparent’. She toys with the pen on her desk, looking down.

 “I think perhaps this just wasn’t meant to be”, she says quietly. “I have enough grief from my ex-husband’s family, my daughter still hasn’t come to terms with my situation, my divorce isn’t finalised yet and I don’t even know what I really want. Maybe this was just a bit of nostalgia”.

 “I’m not so sure about that ”, says Serena slowly, “it doesn’t account for what I feel about you now, my closest colleague, someone who is rapidly becoming my best friend, my very attractive best friend”.

 Her voice breaks and when Bernie looks up she sees her eyes are bright with tears, her face a mask of disappointment.

 “I don’t want to hurt you Serena. I screw everything up, I let people down. My life is a mess. I don’t think I can offer you anything but my friendship right now. In fact it would be wrong to do so. I apologise unreservedly for my behaviour on Saturday, I got carried away, I shouldn’t have.”

 “Oh Bernie”, says Serena, “don’t you see I wanted it too? Surely you could tell?  I’ve never felt like that before with anyone- there, now I’ve said it”, and she puts her face in her hands.                  

 Bernie is silenced by the force of her words, the weight of responsibility threatening to crush her until she gets up and leaves the room, mumbling “I’m sorry, Serena, I can’t do this”.

 Serena is crying openly now, trying to stifle her sobs, aware that the DOS should not be seen like this in her office.

 “Serena”, says Jasmine, coming into the room. “Whatever’s the matter?”

 "Nothing, Jasmine”, says Serena, wiping her eyes “nothing important. Just a personal matter.”

 Jasmine goes out again and Serena makes a concerted effort to stop crying. _Pull yourself together, Campbell!_

 By lunchtime word is going around that something has upset Serena and that Bernie is not her usual cheerful self. Bernie has taken her sandwich up to the roof. It’s a bright, sunny day with just a hint of a breeze. Dom finds her there, smoking.

 “Tough day?” he asks

 “Mm, you could say.”

 “Not that I’m one to gossip’, he smirks a little “but I hear the boss has been upset this morning. That wouldn’t have anything to do with you, would it? Or be the reason why you’re up here?”

 Bernie turns to look at him for a moment.

 “Let’s just say there’s a difference of opinion”, she says.

 “Personal?”

 “Yes”

 “It..er..hasn’t escaped our notice that you and Serena seem to have grown very close to one another. I always thought she was straight, but the way she looks at you sends shivers down the spine!”

 Bernie flushes and says nothing.

 “So, can I assume that this little contretemps is related to your relationship with our esteemed leader?”

 “Oh Dom”, sighs Bernie. “It’s such a mess. I really like Serena, but my life is all over the place. I don’t want to drag her down with me”.

 “Not even if she wants to be dragged- which, I would say, seems to be the case?”

 “Don’t make fun- it’s not so simple. Her daughter is very much against it, that’s not a battle I can fight. I’ve already lost my own daughter, I can’t be responsible for Serena losing hers”.

 “What, little Ms Elinor?” Dom laughs. “Ellie is nothing but a spoilt brat. She’s certainly not homophobic- I saw her in a gay bar in Holby not so long ago with two gay male friends. She probably just doesn’t want her Mum to have any fun”.

 “Whatever”, Bernie says dully. “Right now I’m not in a good place and I can’t get involved in Serena’s family issues”.

 Dom is sympathetic. “Well, if it helps, we’re all rooting for you two. Serena’s had a tough few years- several highly unsuitable boyfriends and a really horrible time before her Mum died- she had Alzheimer’s, you know, and Serena was caring for her until the end. She treated Serena appallingly badly, it was really painful to watch. I know Serena has a sharp tongue, but we all love her, and she’s one of the most fantastically loyal people I’ve ever met. You’re perfect for her in so many ways. If there’s anything we can do to help, me, Morven, Raf, Jac,  please let us know.”

 “Thank you”, says Bernie, throwing down her cigarette stub and grinding it into the concrete floor before picking it up and putting it into her pocket. “I should go back”.

 The rest of the day, Serena is subdued and hardly sees Bernie, who has classes and meetings outside their office. By 6 pm Serena has had enough and she packs her briefcase to go home.

 “How about a drink and you unload on me”, Ric says, falling into step with her.   

 “I could be persuaded”. Serena has no desire to go home to an empty house, or worse, to another confrontation with Elinor.

 “Maybe not Albies, hmm? Let’s go to the Golden Goose” and Ric leads the way.

 Ric comes back from the bar in the small, quiet pub with his whisky and a large glass of Shiraz for Serena.

 “That bad, huh?’ he says as he sees Serena wiping away a tear.

 “I think I’m in love with her, Ric. This is all new to me, I’ve never had a relationship with a woman before, but you know we met in the past?  We had a one night stand at a party in Morocco back in the ‘80s. It was mind-blowing to me at 23, but at the time I just assumed it was one more experience and that life would keep providing these fabulous surprises. How wrong was I,“ she says bitterly.

 “It must have been some one night stand,” Ric comments.

 “I don’t know what it was, we just..fit together. It felt perfect, like being in this huge, safe bubble where you could do anything, say anything and the other person would understand. And because I was young, and stupid, and didn’t want the label of lesbian, I let her walk away, and I never found her again. Until now.”

 “How do you know you’re not over-romanticising that memory?” asks Ric. “Bernie clearly has her issues, she’s been through a lot, she’s much less confident in her personal life than I imagine she was in the past. How can you be sure she’s the same person you say you’re in love with now?”

 “Because I wasn’t in love with her then”, Serena says. “How could I be? I hardly knew her. I wanted to know her but I didn’t have the chance. Now she’s come to work with us and I see all her finest qualities- she’s an amazing trainer, for one, kind and honest, hard-working…”

 “Not to mention stunning” adds Ric, not a little affected by Wolfe-mania himself.

 “Quite. It’s been creeping up on me for quite some time. I’m falling in love with this Bernie, with all her flaws now, not fixating on the memory of that night. But the first chance I had with her, I blew it. I practically jumped on her and then Elinor interrupted us and made her run away”.

 Ric is silent, imagining Serena jumping on Bernie and wishing he’d been a fly on the wall.

 A loud beep sounds from Serena’s phone and she picks it up. It’s a text from Siân: _Don’t worry about Ellie tonight, I’m taking her out to dinner and she can stay over at my place. I’ll have THE TALK with her. Wish me luck!_

Serena quickly texts back a reply acknowledging the message and is profoundly grateful not to have to face her daughter again so soon. Her sulks and cutting remarks all the previous day had been unbearable for Serena.

 “So, now”, Ric says gently, “you rebuild, brick by brick, you win back her trust. No more jumping her bones, at least not until she’s ready. She’s the one who needs to feel secure. How about a refill?”

***

Bernie’s wrist tracker shows her heartrate at a steady 160 beats per minute, in the upper range for someone of her age, and she kicks hard on the last thirty metres of the slope until she reaches the top, where Alex is already stretching.

 “Whoah, that certainly cleared the head”, she smiles, as Bernie drops her head to her knees and pants, noting that her tracker is now showing 169 beats per minute before it starts to drop.

 “I haven’t done much running since the IED,” she gasps.

 “So I see, but that wasn’t bad at all. Tell you what, we can walk down, what do you think? And grab a coffee on the way.”

 Bernie nods and stretches, taking in the beautiful view from the top of this hill.

 “So I take it that there’s trouble in paradise? “

 “You can say that again”.

 “Oh Bern, just when I thought it was all looking good for you.”

 “Well, you know me.  Relationship disaster zone.”

 “Enough of the negativity, Wolfe, you know that’s crap. You win some, you lose some. Don’t give up. What happened anyway?”

 Bernie gives Alex a summary of her Saturday evening misadventure.

 “Ouch, you mean she actually walked in on you?”

 “We managed to get our tops back on but not our bras. Then the damned cat picked up a bra and came running out with it”.

 Alex starts giggling, “Sorry, Bern, but that image of the cat…”

 Bernie can’t resist a smile. “Yes, it was horrible at the time, but in retrospect, I can see the funny side. Elinor’s face was a picture”.

 “Yeah, I bet. Bit of a shock to find her Mum’s switched teams, eh?”

 Bernie lapses back into her melancholy. “But has she? Or is this just a fantasy  based on a one night stand?”

 “What? You and Serena? In the past?”

 “Oh, sorry, yes. I didn’t tell you before,” and she gives Alex the summary of her and Serena’s encounter in Morocco.

 “So..you mean I wasn’t the first woman you …?”

 ‘Well, I never said you were, you assumed, but this was literally a few hours at a party, hardly a relationship. When I met you I had almost forgotten about it. Well, no,” she corrects herself, “I hadn’t forgotten, but it didn’t give me much in the way of experience to bring to a new relationship, that’s all.”

 She casts a sideways glance at Alex. “You’re not going to get all upset about that, are you?”

 “Bern, that’s in the past. We agreed. I wouldn’t have been jealous then, when I had your full attention, so the absence of information isn’t going to upset me now. I think we’ve both moved on. Yeah, it was grim for a while, but you know what? I’m actually getting settled here, I like it, the people, the job. And if we win the project bid I could soon be off to Costa Rica. That’s exciting. And in all that, Bern, I just want to be your friend. I want to be the person who has your back. Because, boy, do you need it! “

 They both laugh a little. Then Bernie puts her hand on Alex’s arm, and there are tears in her eyes.

 “Al, you can’t know how grateful I am for this.  And the thing is, I really like Serena, I think I may even love her, and in fact, I think I knew even back then that there was a special kind of bond. But I was kidding myself all those years. Then when I saw her again, and got to know her, I just…”

 “I can understand. She’s hot stuff, your Ms Campbell. I certainly wouldn’t say no, despite the age gap”.

 Bernie cuffs Alex over the head playfully. “Hey, less of the ageist remarks. She’s my age.”

 “You know what I mean. And no, I don’t think she’s switched teams exactly. She’s using the same techniques on you that she uses on men, I’ve been observing her. What I think is happening is that she’s obsessed with Bernie Wolfe. Not women. Just you.”

 Bernie is struck dumb for a few minutes.

 “Well, if that’s true, I just told her I can’t do this. And I can’t, Al, I can’t get involved with her daughter issues, fuck, I can’t even communicate with my own. “

 Alex stops walking. They are at the bottom of the hill now and she steers them into a café. At 7.30 am they are the first customers. She orders double flat whites and banana nut muffins.

 “You know what? I think these are two completely separate issues”, says Alex. “’I’m no shrink, but what strikes me is that Charlotte is upset because she thinks you were not honest with them about the state of your marriage. It’s not your sexuality that’s the problem, it’s the deception and, yes, I know exactly why, there’s no need to justify it, OK? But according to your colleagues- well, Dom, specifically, and Morven- Serena’s daughter is very spoilt and is jealous of anything that switches her mum’s attention away from her. So the issues are not the same. You would be wrong to generalise or blame yourself. Serena could be fucking George Clooney and her daughter would be furious if it meant she wasn’t paying attention to her. So this is a problem that Serena needs to handle in her own way. It’s not _your_ problem. Elinor doesn’t hate you, and she’s not homophobic, or at least not in her own choice of friends. Serena’s challenge is to get her to accept a new reality. If Serena is committed, she will either ignore Elinor’s remarks or get support to bring Elinor on board. Either way, that’s down to Serena.”  Alex pauses and takes a sip of coffee.

 “Quite the philosopher, Dawson. And what if you’re wrong?”

 “Bern, I don’t think it’s rocket science. Like the Despacito man says, one of you is the magnet and the other one is the metal. That’s a powerful force. You shouldn’t deny it. Just wait out the storms and you two will come back together.”

 “We’ll see”.

***

Later that morning Serena, who at least had a decent night’s sleep and no Elinor to argue with, and who is determined to act completely normally around Bernie, calls Jac into their office to discuss the project proposal.

 “As you will both be aware, we submitted our bid for Project Mariposa- the Costa Rica project- yesterday by email, and I received an acknowledgement this morning.  The clock starts ticking now. They are due to announce the shortlist one week from tomorrow, and the presentations and interviews will be scheduled one week after that. I think there’s at least an 80% chance that we’ll be shortlisted, but after that it’s anyone’s guess. I think we need to start planning for that contingency.”

 Jac and Bernie nod.

 “Jac, can you work with Ric on the capacity planning? If we lose Oliver and 4 of our other trainers, we need to get some new teachers in. Can you put an ad on the usual websites, and start shortlisting CVs? Oh and trawl the last CELTA course for the best graduates to hire as probationers. We’re not 100% sure of the timing of this project, the start dates are never exact at this stage, so we need to be prepared in case things move quickly”.

 “Bernie, 4 of our project trainers are on the MA course. I know they’ve almost finished the second module of the taught course, but we need a plan to support them with their dissertations if they go overseas for up to 2 years. Of course, Costa Rica would be an ideal data source, but they will need support for their proposals and monitoring of their research. I think we need to have an idea now of what their intended research areas are so that we can put the appropriate systems in place.”

 “Yes, I agree, Serena. Of course, it would be me for Teacher Education, but maybe between us Alex and I can handle all of their topics, then they always have direct contact with at least one of us, and I would be visiting every six months in any case. Alex will be teaching the Evaluation module of the MA, but she can manage other areas as well. “

 “I think that’s an excellent suggestion”, says Jac. “That way we can keep tabs on them and keep them focused. Dawson’s very experienced and she’s covered most of the topics on the MA syllabus at one time or another.”

 “Right, that’s settled”, says Serena. “Now, Bernie, I suggest you and I start making our Powerpoint presentation in case we get called to Madrid.”

 Jac raises her eyebrows “Well, in that case, ladies, I shall leave you to it”, and she departs.

 Bernie and Serena work harmoniously all morning on their slides, the work absorbing them and pushing the personal issues into the background. Bernie has the overview of their plan, the timeline, trainer deployment diagrams and maps, and Oliver’s curriculum, which has to be broken down into a series of diagrams.  Serena has the spreadsheets to summarise and display as tables and charts. They work solidly until Bernie’s stomach rumbles and Serena lifts her head and smiles at her. “Lunch?”

 Anyone observing their interaction in Pulses would never think that only 24 hours earlier there had been a rift between them. It struck Bernie as she stood in the queue, while Serena grabbed a table, how natural it was for them to order lunch for the other, knowing exactly the things she liked and disliked, what condiments to pick up and how to order her drink.

 “Here,” Bernie says, putting down the tray, “One Greek salad and a carrot and coriander soup; sparkling water with a slice of lemon; classic vinaigrette”.

 “What have you got?” asks Serena, ever curious. “Not a BLT and Diet Coke again, I hope?”

 No, not today. Thought I’d go for a healthier option- vegetarian chilli with rice and a green side salad. Iced tea, no Coke”.

 They eat for a few minutes in silence, then Serena, says her eyes twinkling “Did you look at the desserts?”

 “Mmmm”.

 “And did they happen to have that chocolate tart with salted caramel and crème fraiche?”

 “They might have”, Bernie is trying not to laugh.

 “So how about we share one?”

 “You’re a seriously bad influence, Campbell”, smiles Bernie, “ but I did manage to run to the top of Wyvern Hill this morning so I can tell myself I deserve it”

 Serena gets the dessert and 2 forks and their coffees and they eat slowly, savouring every mouthful. She purposely didn’t cut the tart into 2 pieces, so she and Bernie have to take alternate bites, forks clashing intimately.

 “So how is it going with Elinor?” asks Bernie, curiosity overwhelming the sudden awkwardness.

 “I haven’t seen her since yesterday morning”, says Serena. “Siân took her out to dinner last night and she stayed there. She’s her godmother”, she explains.

 “I see”, Bernie can’t think of anything else to say, so she puts down her fork and sips her expresso.

 “And talk of the devil”, says Serena, looking up as Siân herself comes into Pulses and crosses the room to their table.

 “Serena, and Bernie - how nice to see you again”, says Siân, seemingly sincere, extending her hand to Bernie, who braces herself for some sarcastic remark, but when none comes, simply shakes her hand.

 “I..er..should go back upstairs”, says Bernie, jumping up and gathering the plates and cups to put on the tray. “Good to see you too, Siân”.

 “Thanks, Bernie”, says Serena. “See you later”.

 Siân slides into Bernie’s seat and faces Serena.

 “Do you want the good news or the bad news?”

 “Oh the bad news, of course”, says Serena “Hit me with it. How could it be any worse than what’s already happened?”

 “The bad news is that your darling daughter has already told her father and his child bride about you being a ‘lezzer’ as she puts it”.

 Serena groans. “I was wrong. It is worse. Just what I don’t need- Edward feeding the rumour mill! Now tell me the good news- quickly”.

 “Well I’m not sure if this qualifies as good exactly, but at least it’s progress-  Elinor is starting to think that being gay is kind of cool. She’s been hanging out with a couple of gay guys in Holby, guys from her uni, and they’ve been taking her to LGBT events where she has started making contact with people in the community. Including women. Ellie, as you know, wants to be a journalist, and it seems she’s been offered the chance to cover some LGBT event, on a voluntary basis. So, in that context, having a gay mum could be an advantage for her. On the other hand, however,”

 “….on the other hand, having a lesbian mother  is also very embarrassing. Young people can’t imagine their parents and their generation having sex, let alone gay sex, which, of course, is only cool when young people do it!” says Serena.

 “Yes, that’s pretty much it. She admits she reacted hastily, but says it seems ‘disgusting’ to her to imagine you having sex with a woman. I asked her how she would feel if she knew you were having sex with a man. Robbie, for instance.”

 “For God’s sake”, protests Serena.

 “No, hear me out. She said she hated Robbie because of the way he treated you. She didn’t want to think about or see the sex part. So I asked her, if your mum was in a serious relationship with a woman who cared about her and made her happy, and if you didn’t have to see or think about the sex part, wouldn’t that be better than someone like Robbie? And she grudgingly admitted it would. Mind you, we were two bottles of Pinot Grigio down by that point-“

 “Siân” protests Serena,” she doesn’t need any encouragement to drink!”

 “No, but this was necessary and it worked. See?”

 “OK that’s wonderful”, says Serena gruffly “but yesterday Bernie pulled the plug on ‘us’. Says she can’t handle it, isn’t ready bla bla bla.”

Siân sat back in her seat, maintaining eye contact with Serena. “Well it certainly didn’t look like that the way you two were schmoozing over lunch!”

 Serena sighs. “We’re back to being ‘just friends’. I think I scared her off, I let her see how much I wanted the relationship. I think she’s afraid of not living up to expectations”.

 Siân is quiet for a moment, thinking, but Serena gets to her feet saying “Sorry, I have a class in 10 minutes and I need to go back to my office first. “

 “OK off you go. And stay calm with Ellie, she’ll come round. And ignore what Eddie and his lot may be saying”.

 “If only”, says Serena, walking to the lift.

 Bernie continues work on the Powerpoint once Serena has gone to her class, her own classes scheduled for later in the day. So absorbed is she in her task that she doesn’t hear Jasmine’s knock on the door.

 “Bernie”, says Jasmine, putting her head round the door. “Someone to see you – are you free?”

 Bernie looks up and sees Siân in the doorway.

 “Oh, er, yes, of course.”

 Jasmine retreats and Siân comes in, closing the door behind her. She sits down in front of Bernie’s desk, adjusting her pencil skirt and crossing her elegant legs.

 “What can I do for you?” asks Bernie, peering over her laptop screen.

 “It strikes me that there’s something you should know, that may put this little difference of opinion between you and Serena into perspective.”

 “Oh really?” Bernie is defensive.

 Siân smiles. “I’m guessing I’m not your favourite person- I set you up all those years ago, and yes, you’re right to be wary. But I’m also Serena’s best friend and I only have her interests at heart. In this case I believe those interests may well overlap with yours. “

 Bernie says nothing but regards Siân stonily.

“Let me tell you a story”, Siân says.

 

 

 

 

 


	11. If Only....

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Siân plays the role of mediator between Bernie and Serena, telling Bernie how Serena planned to meet up with her again in Morocco, and why Bernie should not give up on the possibility of a relationship with Serena.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, we're getting there, slowly! This is a shorter chapter than usual to bridge the time gap until the results of the project are announced.

Casablanca, Morocco, June 1989

 ****Serena was waiting anxiously for Siân  to come back from her date. She had a pile of essays to mark but was making slow progress, so distracted was she by the news she had just heard. Finally, she heard the key in the door and Siân  came in.

 “Phew, it’s hotter than a sauna out there”, she said, wiping her forehead, then “What’s up?” taking in Serena’s expression.

 “I went to the British Council library and bumped into Sarah”, she said.

 “And? What did Wonder Woman have to say? Oh, I get it, this is about Cowboy - again!”

 “She said that next Saturday the British Consul here is Casa is hosting a party for the Queen’s Birthday.”

 “Oh goody, free booze. Do we get an invite?”

 “It seems not- they’re only inviting people on government sponsored projects and NGOs. Not private sector. But there’s a garden party after the official reception that other UK-related people can buy tickets for”.

 “And?”

 “The point is, Bernie will be there, she’s already arranged to stay with Sarah and Jon.”

 “Let me guess, you want to go and waylay her?”

 “Siân , I really need to see her again. I need your help”.

 “I don’t see the problem. Buy a ticket and walk up to her.”

 “What if she doesn’t want to talk to me after all this time?”

 “It’s a risk, but I’m guessing she would certainly want to talk to you.”

 “But she knows where I work, she could get in touch with me any time, and she hasn’t. I don’t want to overwhelm her. I need you to come with me and pretend we just bump into her, then you can make your excuses and walk off”.

 Siân  sighed. “How much is this shindig?”

 Serena looked embarrassed. “150 dirhams each”.

 “Bloody hell, Serena! I could have dinner in the best French restaurant in Casa for that.”

 “I know, I’d offer to pay for you but I’m a bit short this month after that trip to Marrakesh where you insisted on staying at La Mamounia!”

 “And why did we go to Marrakesh? So you could try and ‘bump into’ Cowboy again because you know they had a meeting there. And did we see her? No, despite hanging round all those places where you were so sure they would be! Jesus, why not just write her a note and ask Sarah to pass it on? What harm would that do?”

 “I don’t want Sarah to know I’m interested in Bernie. Passing notes is like putting a big sign on my forehead. If she were a normal friend she’d give me her address and I’d write to her.  Sarah would think it was weird if I asked her to pass a note like that. “

 “Oh, I get it, you don’t want anyone to know about your Sapphic inclinations! “

 Serena blushed.

 “Serena, you do realise this is ridiculous, don’t you? You told her you were straight, you more or less told her to walk away. I’m guessing she very much wanted more of whatever you did with her, but she didn’t want to push it. Now she’s trying to move on and you can’t let her go. You can’t go on like this. Either walk right up to her and tell her how you feel, or for God’s sake let it drop and chalk it up to experience. But if you do walk up to her, and if she does reciprocate, you need to be ready for what it means to be a lesbian. Think of your parents, your friends, hers. Are you ready for that? Or are you happy to just to have a secret relationship for as long as it lasts?”

 Serena thought for a while. Then she said “Well I won’t know until I’ve tried, will I? Look, here’s the plan. We go there and arrive before the garden party starts so we can see if anyone comes out after the reception. We can buy tickets at the door if we need. But maybe it won’t be necessary, maybe we can wait till she comes out and pretend we just arrived?”

 Siân  rolled her eyes. “Typical McKinnie half measures! Damn it, if I’m going to a party I want to get dressed up and enjoy myself. A shame most of the Brit project men are wimps – but maybe the NGO guys will be more interesting!”

 During the week that followed, Serena got sick with a stomach bug that ended with a diagnosis of giardia. She complained to Siân  that the medicine she’d been given made her feel worse than the bug.

 “Yes, but think of Saturday- you don’t want to be throwing up all over Cowboy’s best party shoes, do you?”

 Serena groaned and lay down on her bed, feeling dizzy and light-headed. “I can’t go to meet her feeling like this. And imagine paying 150 dirhams for a ticket and not being able to eat or drink anything!”

 “You’re not paying for the food and drink, just for the opportunity to get closer to your crush. Now stick to the boiled rice and carrot diet, lots of lemon water and mint tea and think positive. You’ll certainly have lost a few pounds by Saturday, ha ha!”

 The day of the party was hot and sunny as usual. The reception for the invited guests started at 11.30 am and the garden party at 1pm. By 12.30, Serena and Siân , attired in their finest summer dresses, were stationed in a café opposite the entrance to the British Consulate, Siân  drinking black coffee and Serena on sparkling water. Serena was feeling better but still rather weak, and her stomach was clenched with anticipation. Half an hour after their arrival, people started turning up for the garden party. They recognised several English teachers from their school, the British Council and other language schools in the city. There was no sign of Bernie, however, and only a few men in suits had come out. At 1.15 Siân  took control.

 “I didn’t buy this bloody dress to entertain a bunch of  Moroccan waiters, so come on, Serena, let’s get over there. Think of all the money you’ve saved this week by not eating out or drinking alcohol! “

 They paid the entrance fee and made their way towards the garden. The guests were just emerging from the reception and joining the new crowd in the garden. They saw Sarah and Jonathan, then Siân recognised Ben, one of Bernie’s colleagues from the southern region. Serena felt her heart race with anticipation until finally Siân  said “Look, there she is - over there”, pointing to where a tall, slim blonde woman in a pale blue button- through shirt dress and sandals was standing talking to one of the consular officials, champagne glass in hand. Serena felt her stomach drop as she looked. Bernie looked radiant, her hair gleaming in the sun, up in an elegant knot, revealing her long neck and perfect collar bones, her skin lightly tanned, her posture confident. She was smiling at something the woman was saying.

 “Let’s go get her, Tiger”, said Siân .

 “I need the bathroom”, said Serena.

 “Nerves, huh? OK I’ll touch up my lipstick while we’re at it”, and they both headed for the ladies.

 By the time they emerged, the party was in full swing, the garden very crowded with people eating snacks from loaded tables and grabbing glasses of cool beer or wine from the circulating waiters. They headed to where Bernie had last been seen, but she was no longer there. It took at least 10 minutes of working their way through the garden until at last Serena spotted her standing under the shade of a palm tree, talking to a serious- looking young man of about the same age with dark hair and sideburns, dressed in a white short-sleeved shirt and khakis. He had a lanyard with a name tag on but he was too far away for Serena to read it. Siân  made to head across towards them, but Serena held her back, waiting for a better opportunity.

 As they watched, Bernie’s companion laughed at something she said, then he leaned over and whispered something in her ear. She nodded, and put her glass down on a nearby table, turning towards where they were standing so that Serena held her breath, but she and the man then started walking towards the door, he slinging his arm casually around her shoulders. As they got there, he paused and brushed his lips against her cheek. Bernie flushed slightly, then let him take her hand and pull her through the door towards the exit.

 Serena was crushed.

 “Looks like you missed that boat”, said Siân .

 ***

 Bernie is transfixed, listening to Siân tell the story.

 “Serena was really cut up”, says Siân. “I’d say, more than a little depressed for weeks. We went back to England in mid-July, at the end of our contracts, and she went to London, to her parents, and signed up to do the DELTA there. That was when she met Edward, he was a junior doctor at Barts.”

 Bernie looks down.

 “I’m sorry”, she says. “For what it’s worth I would certainly have been happy to see her. Even though I don’t think, at that age, I was capable of doing the brave thing and accepting my sexual orientation”.

 “The point is, Cowboy”, says Siân, a hard note creeping into her voice, “Serena always kept you in her mind, always regretted that she’d let you slip away. Dammit, she even kept that ratty orange T-shirt you gave her- she’s probably never even washed it! Now I’m as cynical as they come, but even I can see that you two have some kind of special connection, and it started right there. For you too, I’m guessing.”

 Bernie just nodded, suddenly engaged in a serious battle with her tear ducts.

 “I know why you didn’t try to contact her- Serena can be her own worst enemy sometimes, as I knew as soon as she told me what she had said to you that it would have put you off. About her boyfriend, and being straight. So I can understand why you stayed under the radar. I blame myself for not looking for you myself, to put  the pair of you out of your misery.”

 Bernie has a sudden mental image of Siân, dressed to kill, with a designer handbag, mascara melting in the heat, battling the dust, the flies and the squat toilets in her desert outpost in an attempt to find Bernie Wolfe. She manages a smile through the tears that have pooled in her eyes.

 “Yes, I know,” says Siân . “Ridiculous idea. I wouldn’t be venturing into the boondocks without a robust vehicle, a driver and a cocktail bar on board! Oh and a 5 star resort at the end of the journey. But it wouldn’t have killed me to go to Sarah and ask for your address on some innocent pretext and then written to you. Or even to have asked her where that damned meeting was held in Marrakesh so I could have ambushed you there. As I say, mea culpa.”

 “So what’s your point?” Bernie asks.

 “My point, dear Berenice, is that I’m trying to make up for my previous negligence. Serena fancies the pants off you, as you may have noticed, and you seem similarly interested in her, so don’t let the little setback with Ellie put you off. If I know Serena, she’s in this for the long haul. It’s not a 5 minute fad- trying to be a lesbian -for- a -change type of thing. This means a serious rethinking of her sexual orientation and a willingness to be open about it. “

 “You’re forgetting me”, says Bernie. “I told her I wasn’t ready for this- my divorce not yet finalised, the fact that my own daughter still won’t speak to me. Having issues with Serena’s daughter was just the last straw.”

 Siân sits back in her chair, her eyes gleaming. “No one is asking you to plunge in there and stir things up.  Yes, Ellie is a bit put out right now. She’s a needy little miss with an ego a mile wide but underneath she’s very insecure. This is a massive shock to find out her mum might be going a bit Sapphic.  It’s a shame she walked in on you rather than Serena breaking it to her gently, but what’s done is done. What we –I’m her godmother and I promised Serena I’d try to work with Ellie on this- will do is try to break down the barriers of her resistance bit by bit. She’s not homophobic, thank God, but she needs to change the way she tries to control the image of her parents. It’s the same with her father -no matter how many times we tell her he’s a lying, cheating alcoholic who treated Serena like shit, she still thinks they should be together. It’s a long journey.”

 “So what are you asking of me?”

 “Hang tight there, Cowboy. Stay connected to Serena, show her you care, don’t run away at the first sign of trouble. The right time will come and it will be when both of you are ready. But don’t give up and don’t walk away. Serena needs this, and she deserves it. And, from what I understand, so do you. And don’t give me all that crap about how bad you are at relationships, how you’ll drag Serena down. She’s her own person, she’s strong, she can decide for herself and if she wants you, she could pull you up rather than you drag her down. Think on that.”

 She looks at her watch.  “Gosh, how time flies when you’re having fun!” she gives a sarcastic smile. “Now promise Auntie Siân that you won’t run away!”

 “I promise”, says Bernie weakly, smiling despite herself.

 "Tip-top, Cowboy”, Siân gets to her feet, “and if you can dig that suede waistcoat out of the loft, I know a certain lady would be more than willing to show her appreciation! !”

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Barts=St. Batholomew's Hospital, the medical school of Queen Mary University of London


	12. Pasito a Pasito, Suave Suavecito

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> HIEC is shortlisted for Project Mariposa and Serena and Bernie go to Madrid to make their pitch. Tropes ensue, as one might expect, with a little help from their colleagues. Serena tries to clear the air with Bernie and set her straight about how she feels.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the wait- I was keeping to my schedule but then Life hit with a few demands. During this hiatus I had the bizarre experience of having lunch in a cafe in Thailand to the accompaniment of, groan, "Despacito", a version in Spanish by a Korean female pop star, apparently with no trace of irony. I suspect no one including the singer understood the lyrics. Since the damn song is following me around I used a line from it for this chapter "Step by Step, Softly, Softly", also because we finally get to Madrid (hooray!) so it kind of sets the mood. 
> 
> This was a hard chapter to write and I had over 5,000 words before I was halfway there so I've split it into 2. There are probably only 2 more chapters left before this tale runs its course. Hope you enjoy, and please keep the comments coming, they're the best thing!

 Fifteen days after Bernie’s conversation with Siân, Serena takes a call the moment  she arrives in her office in the morning.

 “Campbell”, she answers, noting an unfamiliar overseas number on her screen.

 “Am I speaking with Serena Campbell, Director of Studies at Holby International English Centre?” asks the voice with a marked foreign accent.

 “Yes, that’s right” says Serena, suddenly realising who the call could be from.

 “My name is Marisol García, I am the secretary of the Costa Rica Education Development office in Madrid”.

 “Hello, Marisol”, she says, heart pounding.

 “Serena, I am calling to inform you that the bid of HIEC for Project Mariposa has been shortlisted with three others, and we would like your representatives to come to Madrid to discuss the plan in detail with our committee on Friday, June 10th. Is that convenient for you?”

 “Er..yes, absolutely”, says  Serena, punching the air in glee.

 “I will send you email with details of the appointment, what to bring, how to locate us and ask that you confirm your attendance with the names of those who will be present.”

 “Thank you, that’s wonderful”, says Serena.

 As soon as the call is over, Serena races into Ric’s office and says, “We’re on for Madrid. Get hold of Essie and clear finance to make the bookings”.

 Bernie is teaching the MA group, so Serena sends her a text saying “Mariposa shortlist confirmed”, knowing she will pass the good news onto her team from that class.

 At 12, Bernie comes bursting into the office.

 “Brilliant, Serena!” she exclaims and before Serena can react she has thrown her arms round her and given her a very un-Bernie-like hug. Serena finds herself enveloped in Bernie’s delicious scent, receptive to the softness of those blonde curls against her face and neck, but before she can reciprocate, Bernie has stepped back and Serena is left grasping air. She feels a blush work its way up her cheeks.

 “Great!” says Bernie, “I’ll see you later, I’m going to catch Alex and bring her up to speed”.

 Serena’s mouth makes an “O” shape, but Bernie is gone before she can get to the “K”. She has a sudden hollow feeling in her stomach. _Come on, Campbell, it’s hunger, that’s all._ Feeling suddenly squeamish about seeing  Bernie and Alex celebrating the good news, she calls Jasmine and asks her to bring food up to the office.

 At 2pm, Bernie joins Ric and Serena in their office. Ric has a notebook in his hand.

 “OK, so you’re off to Madrid on the 10th June. The appointment has been confirmed by email as being at 4.00 pm, so Essie and I think you can fly early in the morning and check into your hotel by 1 pm, giving you enough time to get psyched up for the afternoon”.

 “OK’ says Serena. “How long do we stay there?”

 “Well, the email says they will announce the result by 2pm on Saturday 11th, and the winning team will need to go back into their office for the formalities, so as it’s quite late and the weekend, we decided  you may as well have another night, to, er, celebrate or drown your sorrows.”

 Serena smiles guardedly, not meeting Bernie’s eyes.  Ric continues: “We’re sending you from Bristol, no luggage going out but a suitcase each to check in on the way back if you fancy doing some shopping. Essie has included insurance for both of you”.

 “OK”, says Serena, jotting a note. “And what about the hotel?”

 Ric avoids her gaze and continues in a flat tone. “Essie tells me you have quite a few points saved on your company credit card account, Serena, so we can either trade these to  get you a Deluxe shared room at a four or five star hotel, 2 nights for the price of one, or we can get 2 singles in a cheaper place. Up to you.”

 Serena risks a glance at Bernie. “Up market or downmarket, Major?”

 “Oh, whatever, Serena, you know me, I can rough it if we have to”, Bernie murmurs, a little pink.

 “Then that’ll be upmarket, please, twin room,” says Serena sharply.

 “Ok, it’s done,” says Ric.

 The time passes quickly. Serena has reviewed her wardrobe and decides she needs a new suit, and maybe also some smart casual evening wear for dinner with Bernie. She can’t ignore the little voice telling her they’ll be sharing a room, so new lingerie may also be on the agenda. She enlists the help of Elinor for the outfits (and the internet for the lingerie) and they have a pleasant and productive Saturday together at Cabbot Circus, until Elinor asks over lunch whether she and Bernie will be sharing a room.

 “Is that a problem for you?”, asks Serena, toying with her Salade Niçoise.

 “Not unless you decide to act the puritan and don’t jump on her”, says Elinor, eyes gleaming.

 Serena looks up in shock and surprise. “What? I thought you were totally against the idea. In fact, after that debacle when you walked in on..on us, Bernie has not made a single approach to me.”

 “Oh Mum”, says Elinor, dropping her fork and looking at Serena in exasperation, “look, I had a shock, OK? And maybe I wasn’t very polite to her, but as Auntie Siân said, maybe you just need a chance to find out who you really are. I mean, God, all those awful men you dated after the divorce! But hey, I see how you rush to answer the phone every time she calls, and you two texting each other all the time. I’m not naïve. I didn’t actually think you’d dump her because of me.”

 “I didn’t ‘dump her’ as you so crudely put it. In fact, she dumped me. She saw the way you reacted and as she had a similar reaction from her own daughter, she decided it was a bad idea.”.

 “Really?”

 “Really”, confirms Serena.

 “Shame”, says Elinor casually. “You could do worse. She’s kind of hot”.

 Serena can feel her cheeks flame and she concentrates resolutely on the last scraps of tuna and black olive on her plate.

 “Look, I’ll maybe never be totally OK with it, but I’ve been a bit selfish, I admit-”

 “Yes, darling, you have.”

 “-so I think you should go for it. If it turns out you’re a lesbian after all, that’s cool, I can handle it. And it would explain why you ditched dad and why it didn’t work out with the other guys.”.

 Serena opens her mouth to say “I ditched your father because he was a lying, cheating alcoholic“,  when she realises that there is no point. Elinor’s image of her father is pure fantasy, deeply embedded, and Serena is aware that Ellie has now made a major concession.

 “So, if I, as you say ‘go for it’, and if that turns out well, can I expect you to be there cheering us on?”

 “Let’s see”, says Elinor, eyes sparkling.

 Serena vows to call Siân that very evening to check what has been going on behind her back.

 

***

Friday, June 10thdawns early for both Bernie and Serena. Their flight is at 8.30 am, which means they have to get to Bristol airport by 6.30 am. Bernie picks up Serena in her car at 5.15 am, not willing to trust Serena’s unreliable vehicle. Bernie drives like she does most things- at speed and with scant attention to anything around her. Serena finds herself gripping the hand rest for most of the journey. They make good time getting the parking space and checking in with only hand luggage, managing to grab a coffee and croissant before the flight is called.

 Serena tries not to be disappointed  when Bernie falls asleep as soon as the flight takes off, using her sweatshirt as a pillow to lean against the window side of the plane, away from Serena, but she looks so tired and washed out that Serena doesn’t want to disturb her, so she listens to music on her headphones and reads her Kindle until the landing announcement wakes Bernie with a jolt. Once on the ground at Barajas Airport and with some euros in hand, Bernie’s budget travel experience kicks in.

 “Bloody hell, look at that taxi queue”, says Serena. “We’ll never get to the hotel in time to change if we have to wait that long”.

 Bernie smirks. “Follow me”, she says, hoisting her holdall onto her shoulder and leading  Serena down an escalator into the Metro where she buys  tickets for the city centre, and they board a train almost immediately.

 “This is a little out of my comfort zone, I confess”, says Serena, smiling ruefully.

 “All good experience,” says Bernie smugly. ”Now, what’s the address of the hotel?”

 When they emerge from the underground, Bernie pulls down her sunglasses over her eyes  and points across the road. “There”, she says, indicating where their hotel should be, then, realising what she is pointing at, says “Wow!”.

 “Oh yes”, says Serena smoothly, pulling her little trolley case behind her and moving to cross the road, “nothing but the best for HIEC”.

 Thanks to their swift departure from Barajas, it is barely 12.30 when Bernie and Serena arrive in Reception at the Hyatt in central Madrid.

 “Serena Campbell, reservation for two”, she says.

 “Your passport, please”, says the receptionist, checking her screen.

 “Deluxe Double room?”

 “Er,..no, it was a twin room”, says Serena.

 “The booking says ‘double bed’ and I’m afraid we’re full tonight. I can move you tomorrow, but today we have only that room”.

 “It’s OK”, says Bernie hastily. “If I know these hotels they’ll surely have a comfortable couch I can crash on”.

 They go up to the room, which is luxurious by anyone’s standards and includes a leather covered couch. Serena is inwardly cursing Ric, who obviously decided to intervene with the room booking, but she sees that the bed is so big that even if they share, they will be continents apart, so she says nothing. This could be an unexpected advantage, she realises.

 They drop their luggage, have a quick lunch in the ground floor restaurant, and go back to the room to change. Serena goes first, showering and pampering herself in the well -equipped ensuite bathroom while Bernie has a cigarette outside on the balcony. Serena emerges in her underwear and the hotel’s robe.

 “All yours”, she says.

 Bernie takes her underwear and a robe into the bathroom. Serena notes that she has only a tiny bag of toiletries and realises that Bernie obviously expects to use whatever the hotel provides.

 By the time Bernie emerges 10 minutes later, fluffing her damp hair with her hands, Serena is attired in her new business suit-  a charcoal grey jacket and pencil skirt with a silk coral camisole sporting a low neckline.

 Bernie whistles her approval. “Wow! Trying to keep their eyes on your cleavage and off our presentation, I hope”, she jokes, hastily averting her eyes from the temptation of Serena’s breasts.

 Bernie then sheds her robe without a trace of self-consciousness and stands in her plain cream bra and pants set as she hunts for her clothes in her bag.

 Serena gulps as she takes in the length of Bernie, all sinewy muscles and pale skin, her legs going on forever, and her small breasts beautifully framed in the simple satin and lace bra.

 Bernie  hauls out her smart navy trouser suit and a new pale blue cotton blouse, shaking them to get rid of wrinkles as Serena looks on in horror.

 “Bernie, at least iron that top and hang the suit in the bathroom to get the wrinkles out!”

 Bernie does an eyeroll but complies, donning the robe again and calling housekeeping to iron the top while she hangs the suit in the steamy bathroom.

 Finally they are ready, Serena with the portfolio of print- outs they have prepared and Bernie with her MacBook and backup flash drive for the presentation. As they walk from the lift to the taxi, Bernie notices that Serena is wearing a pair of killer heels matching the colour of her camisole that make her almost the same height as Bernie herself.

 The taxi ride is torture for Serena;  coupled with her nerves about the presentation, she is only too aware of Bernie sitting next to her, elegant and clean-smelling in her beautifully cut, plain suit, her hair, despite scant attention, gleaming and attractively tousled as if by design. Bernie turns her dark gaze on Serena, taking in her beautiful profile, until Serena senses the look and turns to meet her eyes, her own pupils dilated. Bernie almost kisses Serena there and then, but holds herself back just in time, remembering where they are and why. Instead she reaches for Serena’s fingers and squeezes them lightly, earning herself a smile. When they arrive, sensing Serena’s nerves, she give Serena’s fingers another squeeze and whispers “You look gorgeous. Let’s go get’em Fraulein”.

 Despite the distraction, her words give Serena confidence and the presentation goes well, Serena’s businesslike approach and clear cost analyses complimented by Bernie’s expertise with the Powerpoint as she switches into Professional Mode, radiating experience and self-assurance. Bernie hopes their position as the last of the shortlisted presenters could be a blessing in disguise. The panel must be tired, but they will retire with HIEC’s bid clear in their minds.

 They ride back to the hotel in silence, both now drained by the tension of the day.  As they are taking the lift to their room, Serena says “Nothing we can do now until they call us tomorrow with the result. What do you fancy doing for dinner?”

 “Hmm, I thought an aperitif somewhere, followed by a quiet little place for dinner with an amazing wine list”, says Bernie offhandedly as she opens the door to their room.

 Serena glides in and turns to face her. “And you would have all those addresses committed to memory I suppose?”

 Bernie taps her iPhone- “Committed to smartphone, but I guess that’s the same thing these days”.

 “Been researching, have we, Major?” Serena teases.

 “Oh, just tapped a few friends for ideas,” smiles Bernie, removing her jacket, going to  the mini bar and taking out a cold beer, which she proceeds to open and pour down her throat.

 “God, that’s good! Want one?”

 “Just a sip”, taking the bottle from Bernie and chugging down a generous amount.

 Bernie takes off her shoes and removes her suit trousers, sitting on the couch in her hip-length blue shirt, her long legs tucked under her. Serena looks on in amazement, having only removed her jacket and not about to strip off her skirt in front of Bernie.

 “Madrid only really starts rocking after about 9pm, and now it’s 6.30, so I think I’ll take a nap for an hour or so, that early start has knackered me! Then we can head out at about 8. Is that OK with you?”

 “Ah, sure, yes”, agrees Serena, as Bernie lies down on the couch, her bare legs bent to fit into its shorter length.

 Serena cannot bear to see Bernie looking so uncomfortable, especially when she remembers her back injury.

 “Bernie, don’t be silly. This bed is big enough for four, I’m fine with you sharing”.

 “Well only if you’re sure”, says Bernie, looking anxious.

 “I’m sure”, says Serena, shimmying out of her pencil skirt out of Bernie’s line of sight, and shucking her coral silk top which she drapes on a chair before jumping into the big comfortable bed and covering herself in the duvet. 

 Bernie gets up and goes round to the other side of the bed, pulling the blue shirt over her head as she does so. As soon as her head touches the pillow, she is asleep.

 Serena doesn’t think sleep will come so easily, but like Bernie, she is exhausted by the stressful day and sinks gratefully into the comfortable bed, falling asleep within a few minutes. She comes to with Bernie gently shaking her shoulder.

 “Serena… Serena.”

 “Wh..what?” mumbles Serena in the middle of a pleasant dream involving a tall blonde with alluring dark eyes.

 “Time to wake up. Oh and you were snoring!”

 “Was not!” Serena, now fully awake, sits up indignantly, forgetting she is wearing only her underwear, and Bernie gets a view of her breasts that makes her long for a cold shower. Serena comes to the realisation almost at once that she is sitting in her bra with the duvet around her waist but decides not to cover up. Instead it is Bernie who averts her eyes and jumps out of bed, grabbing her robe and heading for the bathroom. When she has disappeared, Serena lays back and wonders what to wear, and what Bernie has planned for the evening. They have been dancing around each other now for several weeks, but despite the resumption of their friendship, Bernie has shown no sign of wanting anything more from her. Serena is torn between desire and lack of self-confidence. Maybe Bernie has realised she could do much better than Serena, maybe she could get her new best buddy, Alex, to introduce her to other, slim, athletic younger ladies. Serena sighs and gets slowly out of bed.

 By 8pm they are heading out, Bernie having suggested that they not dress up too much. She herself is sporting white skinny jeans that look fabulous on her toned body and a fitted navy T-shirt in a silky material with her gold necklace and bracelet. She dons navy espadrilles to complete the outfit. Serena is torn between wearing a dress or her new black, figure-hugging capris, and finally opts for the latter, with a simple turquoise silk camisole under a translucent black voile open shirt. She also goes for  patterned pumps rather than her usual killer heels.

 Bernie is back in “Major” mode, taking charge of the logistics but not giving anything away about where they are going. This is unfamiliar territory for Serena, who usually likes to be in charge, but Bernie seems more familiar with Madrid and Serena confesses she rather likes the mystery. Bernie is doing something on her phone and when they reach the front of the hotel, she steers Serena into a car that pulls up next to them. “Uber” she explains as they get in. The driver looks at the GPS and says something to Bernie in Spanish that Serena doesn’t catch. They sit back as the driver accelerates away. Serena can smell that tantalising perfume again, and finally her curiosity overwhelms her.

“Do you remember that perfume you wore when I met you in Morocco? It was a bit similar to this one you’re wearing- which I love, by the way.  Sort of citrussy but light and a bit floral as well”.

 “Thanks and yes, I remember it well,” Bernie replies. “In fact I used to buy it here, in Spain. It was just a cheap cologne that you could get anywhere, but it suited me, I wasn’t much into expensive perfumes anyway.”

 “Mmm,” says Serena. “One time Edward and I were on holiday in Mallorca and I went to a department store in Palma, and I was browsing in the toiletries department and trying on the colognes. I found one that I was sure smelled just like yours, and I bought it.” She stops.

 Bernie smiles- “I think it was called “Alata” or something like that. It was in a dark green box. I wouldn’t have thought you would have gone for that type of scent. I always associate you with something more complex and  musky”.

 “Yes”, Serena bites her lip, wondering if she should continue. Oh, to hell with it, she thinks, here we are, and tonight everything is going to come out.  “I didn’t wear it”, she says carefully, turning to look at Bernie. “I put it on a silk scarf and kept it in my handbag. To sniff, when I felt sad”.

 Bernie’s eyes are big and dark, and a blush creeps up her cheeks, but she doesn’t break off eye contact. She is about to say something when the driver stops.”

 “ _Est_ _á_ _aqu_ _í_ ,”, he says.

 They get out of the car and Serena sees they are in an old and run-down looking part of the city. Bernie guides her into a doorway and then into a lift and up to the 6thfloor. When they emerge, they are on a rooftop and there’s a lively open air bar and a beautiful view over the city.

 “Wow!”, says Serena, “this is fabulous”.

 Bernie just smiles and leads her to a table near the edge. There’s a breeze tempering the warm June air and Serena suddenly feel reinvigorated and full of anticipation.

 “Another of your surprises!  What are we drinking?”

 “Anything you like “, teases Bernie, “but I’m sure they have Shiraz.”

 “Well guess what, Cowboy, maybe I’ll go for Cava, just for a change. Brut. To celebrate making it this far, but not yet real champagne!”

 Bernie looks at her for a long moment, then calls the waitress over and orders two Cavas.

 She waits until the drinks come, then clinks glasses with Serena, toasting their luck with the project. After the first sip, she puts down her glass, and says. “Funny you should call me ‘Cowboy’. Takes me back to Morocco. Do you know what today is?”

 “No”, says Serena, “Should I?”.

 “Remember the British Consul’s garden party in Casablanca? The 10thof June 1989?”

 Serena gasps, she has not remembered the date but the memory comes back with a sudden sharp shock.

 “How..how do you know..that that might be one of my memories?” she asks, but it takes no more than a few seconds for the answer to hit her. “Siân!”, she says, her mouth pursing.

 Bernie smiles. “Yes, Siân. Serena, if it hadn’t been for her I would not have known that you went there to find me that day”.

 Serena looks down, the grief she felt all those years ago surfacing with the memory of Bernie with the dark-haired young man, walking away, hand in hand. She can feel tears welling up.

 Bernie reaches across the table and takes one of her hands, interlacing their fingers. She says, softly, “That was the day I met Marcus. I met him in the morning and he stayed with me all through the party. I kept looking for you, hoping that you would come, but I didn’t see you. When he asked me to go with him, I thought you weren’t there and in the end I just gave in. Serena, believe me when I say that if had seen you, I would never have started that relationship with him on that day, maybe never, never got pregnant with Cam, never married him because that’s what people did in those days”.

 Serena looks up, her brown eyes full of tears. “What fools we were”, she says bitterly. “What a fool I was. Too much of a coward to find out where you were, to let other people see my interest in you. And I went back to the UK and met Edward and that was that. But I never forgot you, I spent the first five years thinking about you and hoping that one day we would meet, and then, little by little, like the perfume on my scarf, the memory faded until it was just a sort of..dull ache.”

 “No”, says Bernie quietly. “I was the fool. I denied my sexuality for years, hiding behind my mask of toughness, I travelled everywhere and punished myself for choosing the most challenging postings, until Marcus couldn’t stand it anymore and went back home with the children. We were in Sri Lanka, you know, during the civil war. That’s why he left.  And me, I kept on going, Africa, Asia, two years in the most godawful place in China, Eastern Europe, the Middle East…you name it, I did it. And then I met Alex and it was like someone had turned a light on and I could see what I was doing. To myself, and others”.

 They are silent for a long while, their hands still interlaced.  The waitress approaches their  table, eyebrows raised as she picks up the empty glasses  and Bernie nods for her to bring two more drinks. Then Serena says. “So, what are we doing now? “

 “What do you want, Serena?“  Bernie asks, her soulful eyes expressing her anxiety.

 Serena takes a deep breath. “I think I want you”, she says, bravely, bracing herself for rejection.

 Bernie looks down for a minute, then she says. “I’m asking because I don’t think I can go through what I went through early this year again. It’s taken so much to get to where I am now. When we ..when Elinor walked in on us at your house, I just, I ..it was like the past crashing back down on me. I felt so ashamed and so guilty… for exposing you to that kind of rejection from your own daughter.”

 “Bernie, that was just one of life’s misfortunes. But this is MY life, not hers. We’ve been working through a few things, and we have, if not exactly her ladyship’s blessing, then at least a willingness to entertain the possibility of a relationship. With Ellie, that’s as good as it gets! And you have Siân to thank for that, too. Ellie’s manipulative tantrums are no match for Siân’s serpentine legal mind”.

 Bernie smiles a little sadly. “That’s good, Serena, really good. But what if you find out that this is not for you? What about our co-workers, the gossip, facing people every day who can make you feel humiliated?”

 “Bernie Wolfe, you obviously don’t know me at all”, says Serena firmly, as new drinks appear on the table.  Serena takes a big gulp of hers. “If I decide to do something, I commit to it and to hell with other people. My mother hurt me, Edward hurt me, but I’m over that. This ..being a lesbian or whatever I am, this is ME. No one is going to walk all over me any more, and especially not my grown up daughter. As for other people, well they can like it or lump it. I know what I want”.

 “Wow ! You’re talking as if…”

 “Well I have been in love before, I do know the symptoms”, Serena’s eyes are sparkling.

 Bernie drops her hand and sits back in her chair, stunned. Serena immediately wants to take back her words, remembering Siân’s and Ric’s warnings about taking it slowly.

 “I’m sorry, is that too much? Oh, me and my big mouth!  Look, Bernie, forget I said that. We can take it as slow as you like. No expectations, OK?”

 “I just.. I can’t, I mean I..I..I” Bernie stammers, her face showing her fear.

 Serena reaches across the table and takes Bernie’s hand again. She would do anything to slow down time at this moment and to reassure Bernie that she is under no pressure after her thoughtless remark.

 “Calm down, Major. I’m not asking you to marry me. I just feel that after all we’ve been through we deserve a chance to try this, don’t you? When you’re near me, I feel happy, we get on well together, we work brilliantly together and when you kissed me, that ill-fated night in my house, well that’s when I knew that you have the same effect on me now as you did all those years ago.”

 She squeezes Bernie’s hand and brings it to her mouth, kissing the inside of her wrist softly, barely a touch, but which sends shivers through Bernie to her inner core.

 “And it was a lot more powerful than with all the men I ever had”, she says in a deeper voice.

 Bernie moans a little, squeezing her eyes shut.

 “God, Serena, I ..I more than like you, I want you, I do, you can’t imagine how much, I just don’t want to mess it up. I’m rubbish at relationships. I’m afraid that when you find out how crap I am you’ll be disappointed.”

 “I don’t think you could ever be ‘crap’, but  no one’s perfect, least of all me. Just tell me we can try. Put me out of my misery, Cowboy, I’ve been waiting for this chance for so long”, she looks up at Bernie appealingly, and finally Bernie laughs, a short bark rather than a full honk.

 “OK, conversation to be continued", she glances at her watch. “Now drink up, Fraulein, we have a dinner reservation to get to”, putting  some euros down on the table and standing up.

 Once more, Bernie leads the way, opening  Google maps on her phone to check the route as they exit the building,  Serena almost jogging at her side.

 “Oi, slow down, my legs are shorter than yours”, she complains.

 Bernie doesn’t answer but pauses and takes her hand, slowing her pace to match Serena’s. Serena is acutely conscious of Bernie’s hand in hers as they walk. She wonders if the people they pass notice, and she feels proud to be with such a beautiful woman. After a while it feels so natural that she forgets to check the passers-by,  focusing on this amazing feeling of being with Bernie, free of commitments, knowing that what lies ahead is something she has been anticipating for almost thirty years.

 Dinner turns out to be in a small Argentinian bistro in a side street that Serena would never have found on her own.  Tango music is coming from the open doors and the place is full of couples dining. Bernie has a word with the waiter and they are shown to their table, which has a single red rose in a vase on it.

 “Smart work, Major,” Serena is impressed.

 “Oh no, it wasn’t me,” Bernie says, “ I made an online booking after one of my friends recommended it. I think the rose is just house policy”, looking around to confirm it.

 “Well it’s beautiful, what a wonderful surprise!”.

 Two glasses of cava and a handful of pistachios on a very empty stomach have already had an effect on Serena. She feels unwordly, slightly light-headed, grinning inanely at Bernie across the table. She can’t remember ordering, is only vaguely aware that she has agreed to forego Shiraz for Malbec this evening, and eagerly takes a large sip of the powerful, deep ruby wine. The waiter has brought a platter of homemade breads with various dips, oils and vinegars, and Bernie encourages her to eat.

 “Steady on, Serena, put some food in there before you sink any more of that stuff “, she says gently.

 Serena is euphoric, nodding, dipping her bread into a roasted garlic paste and making sounds of appreciation until suddenly, she stops, looking at her garlic covered bread in dismay.

 “Oh…whoops, garlic, bad idea”, she says  before she can stop herself.

Bernie blushes, but takes a piece of bread of her own and dips it in the same garlic paste. “Now we’re quits” she says quietly.

 Serena swallows, the words, spoken in a low, suggestive tone, have gone straight through her and she can feel her heart beating rapidly, her core temperature rising and a stab of desire starting up in her belly. The moment is interrupted by the waiter bringing their salads, soon followed by the most delicious, tender, grass-fed Argentinian steak that Serena has ever tasted. She moans in pleasure, not sure whether her hormones or her taste buds are more in control. Conversation is limited as they satisfy their hunger, Serena also having more than her fair share of the rich wine.

 “ _Postre_?” asks the waiter, taking their plates and setting down the dessert menu.

 Serena is feeling rather full and decidedly mellow, but she craves something sweet to end the meal.

 “Maybe if we share?” she asks Bernie.

 “OK, so you go ahead and choose”.

 “Dark chocolate mousse”, says Serena, sitting back in her chair. “Oh and I’ll have one more glass of the Malbec, please”.

 The waiter takes the empty bottle and winks at Bernie who is shaking her head, reaching for the bottle of sparkling water they had ordered earlier. She loves to see Serena enjoying herself, but she has a niggle of worry about her capacity to stay awake after all this food and wine and such a long day.

 "So, what else do you have planned for this evening, Major?” Serena asks in a low voice with a hint of a slur, enjoying Bernie’s flustered look as she makes eyes at her over her wine glass.

 “Well, um, it’s been a long day, you must be exhausted. I thought, just go back the hotel?”

 “Nightcap on the terrace?”

 “Possibly”, concedes Bernie, as they tuck into the extremely dark, rich chocolate mousse that has a sharp orange tang.

 “Oh my God, this is orgasmic”, moans Serena, eliciting a thrill of desire in Bernie, who shifts uncomfortably in her chair. She is aware that they have not really concluded their previous conversation  and she is still worried about meeting Serena’s expectations. Much as she wants to fall into bed with Serena and explore their mutual desire, she doesn’t want any awkward conversations the next day. Also, Serena appears to be a little drunk and Bernie doesn’t want to appear to be taking advantage. She squeezes her thighs together and focuses on the mousse, avoiding looking at Serena's mouth as she takes in each spoonful with such sensuous delight.

 Serena seems to be blissfully unaware of Bernie’s concerns, and also progressively more tipsy as she drains her glass of wine and beams lustfully at Bernie. The waiter brings espressos for both of them and Bernie signals for the bill.

 “Here, let me", hiccups Serena, pulling her company credit card out of her wallet.

 Bernie uses the bathroom as Serena pays the bill, returning just in time to stop Serena putting a hundred euro tip down on top of her card.

 Serena takes Bernie’s arm as they wait for the taxi. “Midnight. The night is young”, she exclaims.

 “Not for two middle aged ladies who got up at 4.30 this morning”, replies Bernie, yawning.

 “You forget the time difference- our body clocks are saying it’s only 11 pm” insists Serena as their car arrives.

 Clearly losing her inhibitions, Serena wastes no time in snuggling into Bernie in the taxi.

“You smell good enough to eat”, she mumbles, nipping Bernie’s neck and putting her hand on Bernie’s thigh to steady herself. Bernie is desperately holding onto her self-control, not wanting to give the taxi driver a free show, and also aware that Serena is drunker than she first thought.  

 “Ssshh, behave!”, whispers Bernie.

 “Oh, kiss me, Major”, pleads Serena in a whisper, forgetting her promises to ‘go slow’.

 Bernie gives the taxi driver a quick look, noting that he is unable to see them clearly, snuggled into a corner of the backseat, so to keep Serena quiet she reaches in and gives her a quick, soft kiss. This inflames Serena more, and she kisses her back fiercely, tangling her fingers in Bernie’s hair and pushing her tongue into Bernie’s mouth. She tastes irresistibly of coffee, wine and chocolate and Bernie moans into the kiss, unable to stop herself. She feels Serena’s hand stroking her breast and almost yelps as Serena tweaks a nipple through her shirt. Her other hand has slid dangerously far up Bernie’s thigh.  Bernie takes Serena’s face in her hands and gently eases them apart, breathing deeply to get herself under control.

 “Not here”, she insists quietly, and Serena pulls back, disappointed, but obediently puts her head on Bernie’s shoulder and stills herself.

 By the time they reach the hotel, Serena is asleep and Bernie has to shake her awake to get her out of the taxi. She sags against Bernie in the lift, pawing at her breasts and mumbling, Bernie immensely relieved that they are alone. Bernie manages to get Serena into the room, then guides her to the bed, where she flops onto the duvet. She is obviously out for the count, and Bernie herself is equally exhausted and wrung out with all the nervous tension of the day and the emotional roller coaster of the evening. Serena starts to snore, little ladylike snuffles which make Bernie smile. She hits the main light, leaving only the reading lamp, and eases off Serena’s outer shirt, shoes and trousers, deliberately not looking at her underwear and rolling her under the duvet. Then she gets a wet wipe and carefully wipes Serena’s eyelids and lips to remove as much make up as possible. Serena snores on. Bernie eases her onto her side and puts a glass of water by the bed, then removes her own clothes except her knickers and pulls on her nightshirt. In the bathroom, brushing her teeth, she looks at her reflection in the mirror. Her pupils are dilated and she is still painfully aroused but in the end, tiredness wins and she climbs into bed and hits the light switch.

 “Roll on tomorrow”, she thinks as her eyes close.

 

 

 

 


	13. The Sweet Intoxication Of Her Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bernie and Serena get the results of their project bid and discover a major scandal close to home. The walls finally come down between them in their relationship and things get a little steamy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, this was a rollercoaster of a ride. I had the chapter all planned out but some characters just won't do as they're told and a whole new sub-plot took root, which will be explored later in a series of one-shots beyond this fic. 
> 
> I guess I should up the rating to "E" for this chapter, but in any case be advised it's definitely NSFW.
> 
> Once again, all countries, institutions and characters are purely fictional entities and no bias of any kind is intended. (Well, OK that's not strictly true- Gaskell is a snake and I'm still waiting for him to get his comeuppance!)
> 
> The chapter title is from "Desert Rose" by Sting with Cheb Mami.

“You’re dripping on the carpet”, are the words that greet Bernie as she returns to their hotel room at 8am.

 The swimming pool at the Hyatt in Madrid was deliciously cool and spectacularly deserted at 7.30 am when Bernie slipped in and began her morning swim.  Her body clock had woken her at her usual time and she couldn’t stay in bed a moment longer. During the night, she had migrated to the far edge, pursued by a sprawling Serena who wriggled closer each time she moved away. Bernie was tempted to let herself be caught, but in the end held herself back. Serena had looked so cute, her cheeks flushed and her hair tousled as she hugged the pillow inches away from Bernie, snuffling -rather than full on snoring- as she slept. Bernie could tell she had got up in the night because when she rose herself, she saw that Serena’s water glass was half empty and there was an opened blister pack of paracetamol next to it.

 Serena had surfaced to find herself still in last night’s underwear and camisole, and no sign of Bernie, her hotel slippers or her nightshirt. Guessing she hadn’t gone far, Serena pulled on a robe and flung open the balcony doors. Looking down from the tenth floor, she recognised the slim figure in a black swimsuit and white swimcap streaking through the water in the fifth floor pool. There was a certain voyeuristic thrill to watching Bernie haul herself easily out of the pool, yank off her goggles and stretch her long limbs, reaching for a towel to dry herself.  She was so beautiful, and Serena, with a parched mouth, thumping headache and squinty eyes, could feel her self-confidence take a nosedive. Bernie released her hair from the silicon cap and shook it out,  briefly stooping  to roughly dry her feet. Serena can tell from her body movements that she is not planning on staying there long, so she calls room service and orders breakfast, then races to the bathroom to wash her face and brush her teeth.

 “Oh, Serena, you’re up”, says Bernie, moments later as she enters the room. “How’s the head?”

 “There’s a herd of elephants passing through right now, but hopefully they’re on their way to somewhere else”, Serena says with a mischievous grin. “Good swim?”

 “Uh, fine, yes, very refreshing”, says Bernie, aware that her nightshirt is not soaking up all the drips, and moving across the room towards the ensuite.

 “Breakfast will be here at any minute. I ordered for both of us, thought we could sit on the balcony rather than go down to the dining room”.

 “Sounds good”, Bernie agrees, heading into the bathroom. 

Over a delicious breakfast of coffee, fruit, pancakes and yogurt, Serena broaches the subject of the previous evening.  

“I..er..can’t remember much after we left the restaurant”, she confesses to Bernie. “I hope it wasn’t too embarrassing”.

 “You mean you don’t remember our night of wild passion?” teases Bernie, enjoying seeing flustered Serena.

 “What?” asks Serena, horrified to think she might not have been in control of herself.

 “Oh, yes, you were amazing, Ms Campbell”, Bernie smiles as she spreads honey on her pancake and pops a chunk into her mouth.

 “Oh no”, groans Serena. “Was I that drunk? Really? I can’t remember a thing!”

 She looks so unhappy that Bernie relents.

 “Actually Serena, you just passed out”, she says kindly. “But I can confirm that you do snore”.

 Serena now looks somewhat embarrassed. “So you undressed me”, she says quietly.

 Bernie cocks her head for a moment, peering inscrutably from behind her fringe, enjoying Serena’s look of pure misery.

 “Let’s just say I removed your outer clothing as discreetly as possible”, she says, spooning up yogurt with some pieces of strawberry. “But let’s not dwell on that. It was a good evening and we were both shattered in any case. Now the question is, what to do this morning?”

 “I was thinking about that, too”, says Serena. “What about the Prado?”

 “Great minds think alike”, smiles Bernie. “A bit of culture while we wait!”

 They head out shortly before 10, Serena having taken time to consider her outfit and do her hair and makeup. She’s in the black capris again but this time with a low cut red T-shirt and lipstick to match. Bernie has thrown on her white jeans with a pink short- sleeved cotton shirt. She runs her fingers through her hair, gives herself a quick blast of her usual scent and doesn’t bother with lipstick or eye makeup. Serena is slightly annoyed that she looks so amazing with barely any effort.

 The queue for the Prado is mercifully not too long and they soon get in with their headsets and guidebooks. The problem is, Serena can’t keep her mind on the paintings. Much as she appreciates art, and has spent many an afternoon wandering round the famous galleries of Italy, today her attention is constantly drawn to the blonde at her side. The way she pokes her tongue out just a tiny bit when she looks at a painting, her lips slightly wet, the way her brown eyes slant under a slight frown when she cocks her head to take in the detail. The thin, fitted shirt also reveals that the Siberian air conditioning is affecting her nipples. Serena can see her breasts clearly defined under the shirt and she suppresses a groan. Serena’s own nipples stand to attention, too, and not because of the A/C. She crosses her arms across her chest protectively. Bernie looks at her sympathetically.

 “It’s really chilly in here. Did you bring a jacket?”

 Serena shakes her head,  but reaches into her handbag and pulls out a big scarf which she wraps round her shoulders, covering her breasts. “There, better. But what about you?”

 “Oh I’m a tough old bird”, smiles Bernie, seemingly unaware of the torture her nipples are inflicting on Serena.

 They go on, room after room, until Serena thinks she will go crazy, every smile and gesture from Bernie igniting her suppressed desire. She just wants to drag her into the corridor and snog her senseless. Just as she is reaching the point where she is thinking of asking Bernie to accompany her to the Ladies, her phone- on silent- begins vibrating and flashing in her hip pocket. She nudges Bernie, holding it up and they move out of the gallery to a corridor where Serena answers.

 “Campbell”

 “Oh hi, Mari-  …..what?” she gives Bernie a sudden look of alarm. At this point, Bernie’s own phone starts vibrating. She looks at the screen, it’s Alex. Alex wouldn’t call her on some trivial matter, she’s sure, so she moves away from Serena a little to answer.

 “Bernie”, Alex sounds breathless. “I’ve just heard that Train2Teach, where I did some part-time work before I moved to Holby Uni, also bid for the Mariposa project and they put me in their team. They weren’t shortlisted, but my name and CV will be on both proposals. It could raise serious questions for you”.

 Bernie looks across to Serena who is looking extremely perplexed and frustrated.

 “Hold on, Alex, I think this could just be happening”

 Bernie gets Serena’s attention and mouths “What is it?”

 Serena puts Marisol on hold and says grimly. “It’s Alex Dawson. It seems she was in another project bid and they need us to confirm that she’s ours exclusively.”

 “OK, let me talk to Alex. Oh and Serena- ask how they want us to confirm it.”

 “Alex, you’re right, it’s come up now. What happened?”

 “Bernie, I’m so sorry. I had no idea those guys were bidding and I didn’t give them permission to use my name for any bids. They’re dodgy, or so I came to believe, and I got out of there as fast as I could. I’ll do anything you need to prove exclusivity to you.”

 “OK, let me call you back”, says Bernie.

 A member of the museum staff is glaring at them as they talk on their phones, so Serena hangs up as well and they go to the ground floor café. Serena calls Marisol right back as Bernie goes to get coffee for them.

 “Ok, so this is what we do”, she says as Bernie plonks a cup down in front of her.  “They will call Alex independently and ask for her verbal confirmation, followed by a scanned and emailed declaration from her that she’s all ours and has nothing to do with the other bid”.

 Bernie gets straight back to Alex and alerts her, then they can only sit and wait.

 “How could Alex do that?” bursts out Serena, slapping her hand down on the table in exasperation.

 “Whoa there!” says Bernie, anxious to head Serena away from blaming Alex. “From what I understand she had absolutely no idea that they were bidding or would use her name. She did some part-time work for them in London when she got back from the Gulf and before she got the Holby job, but she says they’re dodgy and she got out.”

 “Hmm”, says Serena, her face expressing her dissatisfaction. “This is the last thing we need. We only agreed to put her in at the last moment because we were one short. Just our luck that she would come from some dodgy outfit”.

 Bernie senses that this is not just about Train2Teach. Serena is clearly still harbouring resentment towards Alex. She takes a deep breath and reaches for Serena’s hand.

 “Serena, do you trust me? Professionally, I mean?”

 “Of course I do,” snaps Serena.

 “And personally?”

 Serena turns her gaze on Bernie, looking into her deep hazel eyes which are calm and show no sign of trepidation. This is a very different Bernie from the one she encountered the day after her aborted resignation, or when when Elinor interrupted them. This time Bernie is on terra firma, she is one hundred percent sure of herself.

 “Ye-es,”  Serena says cautiously.

 “I know I’ve been guilty of poor judgement in the past, and my first weeks at HIEC didn’t exactly fill you with confidence. But this project has been my whole life for months now, we’ve done a stellar job on it. And I would never do anything to compromise our work. If I had any suspicion or had heard any whisper that Alex was anything other than one hundred percent reliable and on board with us I would never have backed her, regardless of our personal history.”

 Serena looks back at her steadily. She doesn’t think she has ever heard Bernie make such a long speech, or with such passion.

 “She really means a lot to you, doesn’t she?”, Serena says a little primly.

 “Serena, this is not about my personal relationship with Alex, OK?” Bernie says, her eyes betraying her frustration now. “It’s about my trust in her as our colleague. That is the relationship I am focusing on and you need to focus on. If you don’t trust my judgement of Alex as a person, as well as my knowledge of her as a trainer, then we don’t have a solid team.”

Serena is silent for a moment before coming to a decision. “Yes, Bernie, I do trust you. We would never have got to this point without you, and if you trust Alex to join our team, then I have to trust your judgement. Actually,” she adds wryly, “I quite like her and I think she’s solid. Just a bit TOO perfect!”

 “You’re jealous!” exclaims Bernie before she can stop herself.

 “Too right, Major”, laughs Serena, with some embarrassment.  Bernie has gone pink and is looking at Serena in absolute amazement.

 “What can I say? It’s not one of my most attractive features, but sometimes my lack of self-confidence rears its ugly head at the most inconvenient times”.

 Bernie looks at her deep chocolate eyes, a little shiny with the threat of tears, and she shuffles her chair closer to Serena and puts her hand on Serena’s neck, pulling her forward. Without further warning she swoops in to capture Serena’s lips in a gentle kiss, her thumb soothing the nape of her neck. She pulls back to look into Serena’s eyes and is shocked by the pure want she sees there. Serena puts up her own hand and pulls Bernie back, opening her mouth and pushing her tongue between Bernie’s lips. Desire hits Bernie like a freight train and she is seconds away from pushing Serena against the wall and ravishing her on the spot, but her sudden awareness that they are in a public place, and the ringing of Serena’s phone, force them apart. Serena is panting, looking at Bernie like a dessert she wants to devour in a single go.

 “Later, Major”, she says, answering her phone.

 Bernie looks round self-consciously and sees a little boy pointing at them as a woman she takes to be his grandmother is shushing him and smiling. Bernie blushes and scoots back from Serena to put more space between them.

 Serena clicks her phone off. “That was Alex”, she says, “assuring me that she has done everything to confirm that the other guys did not have her permission to use her name. She even sent her employment contract with Holby University, which mentions being on loan to HIEC specifically for projects. She sounds confident. Let’s hope that’s enough”.

 Bernie breathes a sigh of relief, glad that Alex chose to call Serena personally rather than her.  She looks at her watch and notes it’s already 12.25. The committee must be close to a decision.

 “Shall we stay here and have a bite for lunch? It can’t be much longer now”.

 “This is Spain,” says Serena, frowning. “They stop for lunch at 1.30 usually and nothing happens during the afternoon. Siesta time, remember? I don’t see how this is going to get done if they don’t tell us till 2 pm and they still need us to come into the office.”

 As she finishes speaking, her phone rings again.

 "Hello Marisol”, she says expectantly. Bernie holds her breath as Serena issues a series of Yesses and I sees and an OK.

 “Not what we wanted?” she asks.

 “Not what we expected”, says Serena. They’re close to a decision but have a few more questions and want us to get back into the office as soon as we can, like now. They told me not to worry about business dress, come as we are”.

 By the time they get to the Project office it’s almost 1pm and both are feeling anxious, Bernie wishing she could have a cigarette to keep her hands steady. Serena’s hand finds its way into Bernie’s and they rush up the stairs to the first floor reception area, arriving in front of Marisol a little breathless. Marisol, an elegant, attractive brunette in her mid-40’s, looks down at their joined hands and smiles in amusement. Serena immediately pulls her hand away, flushing.

 “It’s OK, ladies, take a breath. I think the news is good”, and she indicates the meeting room behind her, standing up to usher them in.

 The President of the committee is standing to greet them, shaking hands as they take their seats. He has just one person with him- his deputy, Lucia something or other. Lucia,  with the perfect English (and a PhD from an American university according to her business card), explains that they had a few issues to resolve before announcing the winning bid.

 “Let me just say that your bid was way ahead of all the others”, she says with a smile. “We had to lock down some of the small print, however”.

 “Like Alex Dawson?” asks Bernie.

 “Well, yes, that was kind of urgent because as we understand it, she’s a key member of your team. But once we spoke to her and got her email, that was fine”.

 “So, what else is it?” asks Serena, puzzled

 “Well, as I think you are aware, each bid has to be supported by a testimony from two financial guarantors - that means, in effect, taking legal responsibility for project funds once they have been transferred. This is required by our government and is normal practice in ensuring that funds are not misplaced, misspent or.. ”

 “..or misappropriated”, Serena interjects.

 “Yes, quite.”

 “So your bid named Professor Henrik Hanssen, the CEO of HIEC, and Professor John Gaskell, the Vice-Chancellor of Holby University, who is also on the Board of HIEC.”

 Serena is nodding, puzzled. Lucia refers to some notes in front of her and continues,“Professor Hanssen checked out, but it appears that Professor Gaskell is being investigated by the authorities in Washington DC for misappropriation of funds from another project.”

“What?” exclaims Serena in disbelief.

 “Professor Gaskell was Visiting Professor of Communication Studies at a university in the Caribbean that I am not allowed to name at this moment, until March of this year. Following his departure, it was discovered that over three million dollars of project funds belonging to the Inter-American Development Bank was unaccounted for during the external evaluation of a project to train that country’s teachers offshore in 2016. This only came to light recently when the evaluators uncovered evidence of corruption. Gaskell was a member of the bidding team for  that project.”

  “My God”, says Serena, “I had absolutely no idea”.

 “No, and neither did Holby University, it seems, until a request for the extradition of Professor Gaskell to the US was received yesterday morning. We had made a request to both Holby UnIversity and the Caribbean  university for clearance of the Professor and this was the last barrier to HIEC winning the Project. This morning Mr Hanssen called me to tell me that Professor Gaskell has been fired from Holby University and a new Vice-Chancellor, who has been pre-cleared, is being appointed with immediate effect. We have just received his email confirming this,” she waves a piece of paper bearing the Holby University crest and Hanssen’s inimitable scrawled signature,“ and the original document, together with the new Vice-Chancellor’s witness testimony, has been sent by express courier. So, ladies, HIEC is now in the clear. And we can announce that it is the official winner of the Project Mariposa bid. Congratulations, we are really looking forward to working with your team”.

 Serena and Bernie don’t know whether to laugh or cry. Seeing their expression, the President of the Committee says,

 “Come, ladies, it is almost 1.30 and we have some formalities to attend to.”

 “But why didn’t Henrik call me to tell me about this?” mutters Serena.

 “Ah, Professor Hanssen was most concerned that you should not be disturbed until the situation was rectified”, puts in Lucia, rather too quickly.

 “So he knew we were going to win?”  Bernie asks.

 “Er, Henrik is an old friend of mine” says Lucia, coughing, and exchanging a look with the President. “We did our PhDs at the same university. It was a matter of trust that I had to tell him why this was so urgent”.

 Bernie and Serena trade glances and Serena mouths “later” as they get back to the formalities.

 They leave an hour later, in  possession of the documents that confirm their new status, their heads bursting with a mixture of pride and confusion. As they head for the door, Marisol puts down the telephone and says “Congratulations, have fun tonight, girls” and winks. Bernie looks embarrassed but Serena, having now regained her bounce, takes Bernie ‘s hand once more and winks back.

 “I think that’s a given!” she says.

 Once outside, Bernie’s  stomach growls. “Lunch, please”, she says, heading towards a row of restaurants. The lunch crowd is thinning out and they find a table in a small place which advertises its speciality as paella. Bernie orders for both of them, including a bottle of Cava Brut (“Because lunch and seafood don’t go with Shiraz”) and Serena just smiles. As soon as the waiter departs she is on the phone to Henrik.

 The story that emerges is truly amazing, and as they are in a corner and most of the other patrons have now left, Serena puts Henrik on speakerphone, keeping the volume at a polite level.

 It transpires that Gaskell- who Serena had always viewed as reptilian- had conspired with a British businessman to win the project funds from the IADB for the impoverished Caribbean nation, believing the locals to be too naïve to track what they were doing. The businessman, one Tristan Wood, first set up a company called Train2Teach and used an old contact, now working as a TESOL lecturer at the national university of that country, to make a bid with T2T as the implementing partner. The funds were supposed to cover TESOL teacher training for 300 teachers and teacher trainers who would be pre-trained then sent to  two countries where English was the official language, nominally the US and Singapore. Wood then used his connections to send 20 of the best people to a low ranking private university in the US, where he had a buddy in the administration, and the remaining 280 to an institution in the Philippines where fees, overheads and quality were much lower, and where a fancy overblown invoice was issued in return for the head of finance pocketing the commission due on the placement. The money saved was then shared between Gaskell and Wood, who got the lion’s share, and the university contact in the Caribbean country.

 “So Alex was working for Wood?” asks Bernie, furious to think her friend has been deceived in this way.

 “Yes, although not on that project, but the connection further complicated matters”, says Hanssen. “It seems that Wood is also an acquaintance of Guy Self’s, and that’s how they agreed she would appear in both the Mariposa project bids. Self would agree to terminate her contract if T2T won, and he would probably get a cut. But T2T couldn’t possibly win without someone like Alex anyway. They’re small fry compared with HIEC”.

 “That bastard Self”, mutters Serena, gritting her teeth. “Please tell me he’s been arrested.”

 "Well, no, actually no need. He spilled the beans readily enough when the extradition warrant arrived and we have him in plain view. He isn’t going anywhere. Wood, on the other hand has gone on the run and I think the Americans have alerted Interpol.”

 “Start with the Philippines”, says Bernie grimly.

 “Oh I think they have it covered. Anyway ladies, congratulations, I knew we could win this, I’m so proud of you.  Enjoy your evening- careful with the Shiraz, Serena- and I’ll see you both on Monday”, and with that he hangs up.

 Serena raises her glass. “Here’s to us,” she says, clinking.

*** 

At 4am the following morning, Bernie goes to the minibar and drinks half a litre of water. They have to check out by 12 and their flight is at 3pm. She looks at Serena, immobile under the duvet, and sighs.  Plenty of time. She goes to the bathroom and pees, feeling soreness from their activities over the past 12 hours. She remembers the bathroom in Casablanca almost 28 years ago, how she had hidden in there, overwhelmed by shame and guilt but tortured by the memory of the extreme pleasure she had felt. It had taken her all those years to feel that pleasure again, but this time to welcome it, to fall into it willingly, to relinquish self-control knowingly, and to feel safe in that shared space.

 Bernie and Serena had left the restaurant at 4pm slightly tipsy on Cava, pleasantly full of excellent paella, totally drunk on their success and still befuddled by the back story of their Vice-Chancellor. Back in their room, they collapsed on the bed, fully clothed.

 “What I don’t get”, said Bernie, slurring a little (having consented to  brandy with her coffee) “is how they managed to wangle three million dollars THREE MILLION DOLLARS for fuck’s sake, from a project worth just twice that much. That’s like..50 fucking  percent!”.

 “Well, you see”, said Serena frowning as she tried to engage her formidable business brain, “it all comes down to fake invoices. You find the person who makes the invoices and you bribe them.”

 “Yes, I get that”, said Bernie, “but how can the people evaluating the project know that the invoices are fake, when the project pays that amount into the institution’s bank account?”

 “Oh they don’t”, replied Serena. “They set up a fake bank account to receive the money that looks like the real one but …for God’s sake, you don’t need to know all that. It’s feasible, OK? Happens all the time. “

 She rolled over and threw her arm across Bernie’s stomach.

 “Fuck me, Major”, she said. “I can’t wait any longer but I’m too tired to move.”

 Her words went through Bernie like lightning, burning her to the core.

 “Wha..what did you say?”

“I said ‘Fuck me’. Isn’t that clear enough?”

 “S-Serena…”, Bernie turned towards her and tilted her sleepy head up a little so she could kiss her softly, once, twice, little pecks.

 “You have no idea how long I’ve waited for this”, she whispered.

 “And you have no idea how close I’ve been to exploding all day. Stop talking and get on with it”, mumbled Serena.

 “Yes, Ma’am”, said Bernie, practically saluting as she sat up and threw off her shirt and bra, leaning back down to lift Serena’s T-shirt over her head and unfasten her bra. When she saw Serena’s breasts tumble out, her larynx seized up..

 “Serena, Christ, you’re so ..delicious”, she whispered as she bent to take a hard, brown nipple into her mouth, squeezing and stroking her breasts until Serena was  arching her back and  moaning.

 “Let me feel you, Major” she whispered, pulling Bernie down to lay atop her.

 Just like the time in Serena’s house, Bernie felt a kind of frenzy building in her, laying her extremely sensitive breasts on Serena’s, returning to the kiss, deepening it, tasting that exquisite Serena-ness under the layers of brandy, Cava, garlic and coffee, moving ceaslessly, both searching for friction where it mattered. Only now it was just the two of them.

 Serena was frantically fumbling with Bernie’s jeans, “get these things off..now!” she ordered, as Bernie lifted her mouth for the seconds it took to unfasten the jeans and push them down her legs, returning to help Serena who was struggling with her own.

 In just her burgundy lacy knickers, Serena, eyes squeezed shut, reached for Bernie’s hand and pulled it down until she was cupping her mound. Bernie was so turned on she could hardly process what was happening. She stroked Serena through the knickers, feeling her wetness, and lowered her head to breathe in her smell, and bump her clit with her nose.

 Serena, moaning, pulled Bernie back up to kiss her again and pushed Bernie’s hand against her sex. This time Bernie didn’t hesitate, pushing the knickers down in one firm swoop and diving in with her hand to insert a finger into Serena, sliding it up and down in the pool of wetness, barely grazing her clit.

 “You’re oh so wet”, she panted, luxuriating in the feel of Serena’s swollen sex, knowing how excited she was and feeling an answering spurt of wetness in her own underwear.

 Serena cried louder, writhing against Bernie’s hand, “More”, she moaned, as Bernie inserted a second finger, then a third, using her thumb to graze Serena’s clit as she set up a steady rhythm, curling her fingers inside Serena and bending her head to take a nipple into her mouth and suck hard.

 “Ahh”, cried Serena, “yes, oh keep doing that”, until suddenly she arched off the bed, wailing loudly, Bernie feeling her walls contracting powerfully against her fingers.

 Bernie stayed still, conscious of the painful throbbing  beat of her  own sex as she kept her fingers inside Serena, giving her little kisses all over her neck and chest until her breathing slowed and she opened her eyes.

 “Now that”, Serena said, “is what I call a fuck! God, you’re good at that. I always knew it.”

 “Really?” asked Bernie.

 “You can’t imagine how many times I made myself come thinking about that night in Casablanca. Nothing ever compared to that. But this was even better!”

 Bernie smirked and gently eased her fingers out, softly patting Serena’s mound as she did so.

 “You’re so beautiful and so sexy”, she whispered, “I could do that all night”.

 She brought her fingers to her mouth and sucked, Serena’s eyes going as wide as saucers, until finally she blushed to the roots of her hair.

 “God, Bernie..”, she whispered, and she pulled Bernie back into a deep kiss, tasting herself in Bernie’s mouth, a sensation she had not expected to like but found strangely compelling. She pushed their breasts together and threw one leg over Bernie’s so that her wet sex rubbed on Bernie’s thigh. She could feel herself building again, but she wanted to give Bernie the same pleasure she had had minutes ago, so she moved aside a little and started cupping Bernie’s small but perfectly formed breasts, sucking her pale pink nipples and finding Bernie more sensitive than her, each tug causing Bernie to writhe and arch her back.

 “Please, Serena,” she said, helplessly.

 “Show me”, whispered Serena, pushing Bernie’s underwear down and gently touching the sparse hair on her sex, feeling the wetness oozing out, her flesh soft and silky, oh so inviting. Bernie took Serena’s hand and showed her how to stroke up, down and around her clit, not quite touching it at first. Serena was a fast learner and once she found her rhythm she moved her sex back onto Bernie’s thigh and ground against her, following the rhythm of her fingers. She suddenly pushed one and then two fingers into Bernie, not too deeply, sensing what she wanted, keeping her thumb sliding up and around her clit until suddenly she slid it right over and Bernie gave a jolt and cried “ohhhh”, pushing her hips urgently up to meet Serena’s hand, so Serena kept her thumb rubbing Bernie’s clit while she ground down harder on her thigh, feeling herself soar again and crest the wave just as  Bernie came  apart, eyes closed, walls contracting as Serena held her fingers there, still stroking gently until Bernie came down, and covered her hand with her own to still her.  

 Serena moved off and lay beside Bernie, still panting, bringing her wet fingers to her nose and inhaling Bernie’s addictive scent.

 “That was ..just amazing”, said Bernie. “Did you ..again?”

 “Mmm,” said Serena, “I have a feeling I’ll never stop coming when you’re around. I only have to look at you and I go all wobbly”.

 “Ha, ha,” honked Bernie. “Does that mean we’ll have to avoid each other at work? Or secretly map all the nooks and crannies where we can satisfy our lust?”

 “Don’t”, shuddered Serena, “I don’t want to think about Jac and Ric catching us- or anyone else for that matter. You do realise that Ric -with Essie’s help- engineered this double bed, don’t you?”

 Bernie thought for a minute.

 “Would it matter so much, Serena if people knew we were a couple? If we could be more open at work?”

 Serena turned to look at her, not speaking for at least ten seconds.

 “I’ve spent so long wanting you”, she began carefully, “that I don’t want to mess this up. But I don’t think that gives other people the right to judge or to comment. Not until I’m ready. Then, we can make an announcement and let the world come in.”

 Bernie propped herself up on her arm, looking down at Serena.

 “What are you waiting for Serena? For one of us to mess this up? Well that would be me, with my history. If so, I can walk away right now and save you the bother.”

 “No, Bernie, that’s not what I mean. Oh, how can I explain? I just want you to myself for a little while longer. We can tell Sian, and Elinor, and your kids, of course”

 “And Alex”, said Bernie firmly, knowing how invested her friend had been in the relationship.

 “Yes, of course” said Serena. “Close people in our life, but not necessarily in the office next door. Or teachers. Especially not that bunch from the MA programme. Jungle drums and all that”.

 Bernie gave a great sigh. “You can count on my discretion,” she said, “but in my opinion, people like Duval are always the first to sniff out any gossip. The best way to deal with them is to pre-empt them. Then they have nowhere to take their speculation.”

 “Be that as it may, and that’s an extraordinarily bold statement after what Duval did to you, I reserve the right to let people know in my own time. And all I’m asking is that you respect that, OK?”

 “Of course, Serena”, said Bernie, leaning in to kiss her softly. “As long as we‘re a couple in private”.

 “You can bet on that, Major”, said Serena, sleepily.

 Bernie saw Serena’s eyes close and felt her own eyelids stinging. She pulled the duvet over them and let herself fall asleep, spooning Serena who had rolled onto her side.

***

 

When Bernie awoke, the reading lamp was on and Serena was sitting up in bed, reading something on her tablet.

 “What’s the time?” croaked Bernie.

 “Quarter to nine”, said Serena. “I’ve been thinking maybe we should go out for a walk or something or we may not sleep tonight”.

 “Who said anything about sleeping?” asked Bernie, chuckling softly. “I can think of lots of things I’d rather do. We can sleep on the plane”.

 Serena peered over the top of her glasses. “Hop in the shower, Major”, she said. “We’re all hot and sticky. Let’s cool off and decide about dinner before we… get some more action”, she adds suggestively.

 “Are you joining me?”

 “Hmm..now there’s a thought”, Serena said, removing her glasses and getting out of bed.

 Forty-five minutes and several orgasms later, they decided to go as far as the downstairs restaurant for a light supper. By eleven they were back in the room and preparing for bed.  

 Bernie found that her nightshirt, which she had forgotten to hang out to dry, was still wet from being worn over her swimming costume early that morning.

 “Oh you won’t be needing that, Major”, said Serena lustfully. “Now get your perfect arse into this bed!”

 

*****

When Bernie awakes later on Sunday morning, Serena is on her back, still slumbering, not fully asleep but not yet awake. Her hair is an adorably ridiculous mess, sticking up in tufts in all directions, and although her sexy little nightdress is still technically on her body, one perfect breast has escaped from its confines and lies exposed to view. Bernie takes one look and knows she is lost. She feels something brushing against her legs in the bed and puts her hand down for it to emerge with one pair of black lace knickers, which has her groaning even more.

 Bernie eases the duvet down gently and sees Serena’s nightdress has ridden up to her waist, leaving her deliciously exposed. She salivates. Serena moans and stirs but doesn’t quite seem to wake. Bernie is already wet and her insides are like molten jelly seeing her lover like this. Very gently she moves down to brush her nose across the top of Serena’s thighs. Encountering no response, she zeroes in on her target, blowing very softly onto her mound. Serena quivers. Bernie does it again, blows gently onto her sex. Another barely perceptible quiver. So she starts kissing and nipping the top of her thighs until Serena moves  them very slowly apart, little by little. When Bernie can fit her head and shoulders between Serena’s thighs she knows Serena is faking sleep. Her sex is wet and glistening and Bernie breathes in her aroma, blowing softly again until she can feel Serena’s twitch, telling her she is ready. Very softly she swipes her tongue across Serena’s sex, brushing her clit. Serena moans now and her hand comes down to tangle in Bernie’s hair until Bernie goes right in, stroking and swiping as if her life depended on it, adding a finger or two until Serena cries aloud, her hips almost coming off the bed with the force of her orgasm, and she shudders and shudders, holding Bernie’s head in place until she quietens, the aftershocks rippling through so that she trembles repeatedly.

 Finally Bernie lifts her head and gently kisses Serena’s stomach. Serena half opens her eyes and mumbles “C’mere”.

 Bernie moves up and plants little kisses all around Serena’s jaw, but Serena grabs her head and takes her full on the mouth, using her tongue and tasting herself deeply. When Bernie finally pulls away, Serena whispers, “I love you so much, Major. No one has ever, ever made me feel like that, and no one else ever will.”

 Bernie rubs her nose tenderly but doesn’t speak. She eyes Serena with all the warmth and affection she can muster, finally just hugging her close and rocking her. After a while, Serena sighs and wrestles free, sitting up in bed and yawning.

 “Time to move, Major. We have a plane to catch. Last one into the shower’s a pussy!”

 


	14. Turbulence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is the final chapter in this AU. Bernie and Serena return to HIEC as a couple and prepare for the start of Project Mariposa. Serena continues to be anxious that Bernie may not be fully committed to her, which is made worse by the job demands on Bernie in preparation for departure. Shortly before she his due to leave, Elinor shows up at Serena's with two mystery guests. Finally, Bernie and the team head for Costa Rica but the journey is not without its challenges and the flight is delayed, finally arriving safe and sound. Only a small amount of angst and all's well that ends well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this the end of this particular story and I'd like to thank all those who have stuck with it. I'm still finding my way writing-wise after a long, long absence and this chapter was a real struggle. I'm not 100% satisfied but there we are. I'll be off on a one month trip in a few days with no time or space for writing, but if people have enjoyed the AU, I have some one-shots planned for when I get back.Thank you all for the comments- they are what make everything worthwhile.

On Monday morning, Bernie surfaces from a strange dream to feel a furry paw on her face. Opening her eyes to see a pair of wide green ones staring into hers, she is about to scream in horror when she hears Jason’s plaintive ‘miaow’ and realises she’s in bed in Serena’s house and that Jason has once more managed to open the door and remind them that it’s breakfast time. Serena stirs from somewhere close to Bernie’s shoulder mumbling a question as Jason picks his way delicately over the duvet to nudge her cheek. Bernie squints at her watch “Five to seven”, she says, leaning over and kissing Serena softly. “Morning, you”, she says tenderly. Serena tries to reciprocate but Jason gets there first, patting her on the nose with his paw.

 Serena sighs.  “No peace for the wicked!”

 They had returned to Serena’s house the previous evening from the airport, to find Elinor, Jason’s designated caretaker for the weekend, waiting for them.

 “I hear congratulations are in order”, she said, “on two counts”. Serena flushed with pleasure and a touch of self-consciousness, sneaking a look at Bernie from under her lashes, and fingering her pendant. There had been calls to Siân and Elinor while they were waiting for their flight, and she was a little apprehensive about how Elinor would take the news of their relationship status.

 “So well done, both of you, with the project. And the other thing, but I don’t want to know any details. Jason is fine and missed you, especially your leftovers. All he got from me was Whiskas with Mackerel. He didn’t really go for the Thai green curry I had with Auntie Siân last night”.  She got up from her chair and grabbed a backpack sitting near the door.

 “Won’t you stay tonight?” Serena asked, forcing a look of disappointment.

 “What?  Stay and watch you lovebirds making eyes at each other all evening? Or worse?  No thanks, I’m going to Dad’s, then back to uni tomorrow”, she said smiling, without malice for once.

 Once she had gone, Serena turned to Bernie and dropped her voice a register. “Race you upstairs, Major!”

 

***

 Bernie arrives at work minutes after Serena, bearing large cappuccinos and warm croissants, having first gone home to shower and change. She can still detect the scent of Serena on her fingers despite the washing, which wraps her in a warm cocoon of memory.

 Before Serena can greet her, Ric is in the doorway.

 “Congratulations! HIEC is going to Costa Rica! That’s fantastic, Serena”.

 “Even more fantastic when you hear about how HIEC _nearly_ didn’t make it”, Serena says, breaking off a piece of croissant to dip in her coffee.

 “What?” asks Jac, coming into the room.

 “Hasn’t Hanssen told you?” 

 They shake their heads, so Serena sits them down and fills them in.

 “So who’s the new Vice -Chancellor?” asks Jac.

 “Well”, says Ric. “I met this woman on Friday being shown around by Hanssen. She appeared to have an air of seniority at least equal to his. Hanssen didn’t explain her presence but I think it’s a fair bet she’s the new VC. She was introduced as Abigail Tate, she said she was an old friend of yours, Serena.”

 “Hmm, old rival more like”, says Serena. “She was my Deputy at International House in London ten years ago. I always knew she was ambitious. She did a DBA and got herself a job with the University of London after that. Worked her way up.”

 “She can’t be worse than Gaskell”, says Ric. “I always knew there was something not right about him”.

 “Me too”, says Jac, as Serena nods.

 “So what’s the plan?” asks Ric.

 “All stations go. Team meeting this afternoon at 2pm”.

 Later in the morning, Bernie is washing her hands in the Ladies when she is intercepted by Jac.

 “Good weekend was it?” Jac asks, “apart, obviously, from winning the project” she adds sarcastically.

 Bernie gives her a hard stare. She knows Jac too well to be easily discomfited by her.

 “Nice hotel, good food, pretty hot,” is all she says.

 Jac smirks “I bet”.

 Cursing herself for falling into that one, Bernie hastily finishes drying her hands and goes to walk past Jac.

 “I take it from the way Campbell is radiating goodwill to all men this morning that you put in a stellar performance, Wolfe. Jolly good, that’s the spirit!”

 Bernie flushes at this but ignores her and leaves the room, gritting her teeth.

 Serena is battling her own inquisitor as Ric appears the minute Bernie leaves the room.

 “All..er..satisfactory with the hotel?” he asks.

 Serena gives him a look that says she knows his game. “Fine”, she replies. “Bed the size of a football field so the fact they had no twin was hardly an issue”.

 Ric has the grace to look down for a second in acknowledgement. “And er..was the company also satisfactory?” he persists.

 Serena throws down her pen in a show of exasperation but before she can think of a clever reply he goes on, “judging by that impressive mark on your neck, I’d say it was more than satisfactory”.

 Serena goes bright red at this and slaps her hand over her neck, feeling for a raised or tender spot.

“Ha ha, got you there”, he chortles, as Serena curses and throws her diary at him.

 “Get out”, she hisses.

 By lunchtime the news has circulated that the DOS and the Teacher Training Coordinator are involved romantically, and Bernie has to endure winks and meaningful glances from Dom and Morven, while Serena finds Raf, Essie and Fletch in a huddle at lunchtime shooting her admiring looks. She can almost hear them saying “How on earth did she pull that one?”

 The jungle drums have started beating. 

*****

The excitement generated by the winning of the project has everyone buoyed up with pride and self-confidence. The deadline for the start of the project is the beginning of August, before the autumn term starts in schools. Bernie, Alex and Ollie are in full planning mode for the 15 day in-country orientation course which has already been budgeted for and means flying the team out in mid-July. They have only one month now to get everything arranged. Bernie finds herself under pressure to meet the tight time deadlines requested by the Mariposa Committee, but she knows that the sooner they get out to San José, the easier it will be to have everyone acclimatized and comfortably in place by the start of the school year.

In the first meeting, Bernie and Serena have drawn up a list of tasks which they distribute to the various team members. Bernie finds herself having to do a thousand things, and, being Bernie, she can’t leave the details totally to someone else but is constantly checking to make sure nothing has been overlooked. She is also responsible for the MA schedule, and ensuring that all the input modules are delivered before the team departs. A pile of their assignments duly arrives on her desk, and by Thursday, she is feeling seriously overwhelmed. She has stayed late every evening and has not been back to Serena’s since the night they returned from Madrid. Serena is worried that Bernie may have taken on too much so she offers to mark assignments for her and suspends her Friday lecture slot until she returns from San José.

 “How about dinner tonight?” she suggests when they are alone in the office. Bernie pushes her glasses up and rubs her eyes, which are red-rimmed with exhaustion.

 “I’d love to, Serena, but I have at least another 2 hours here after you leave.”

 “OK so this is what’s happening,” Serena says firmly. “I’m going home to prepare dinner, and at exactly eight o’clock you are going to leave here and come eat with me. No excuses. Anything unfinished can be done tomorrow and I promise to help you with your other stuff. Deal?”

 “Deal”, says Bernie, too exhausted to argue.

 In the end they manage to have a pleasant evening together and Bernie gets a good night’s sleep, Serena insisting that it’s fine if they just cuddle, and to save the energetic stuff for the weekend.

 During the night Jason finds his way into the bedroom and snuggles in between them on top of the duvet, purring like a sewing machine.

 Serena realises at the start of the following week that her attempts to avoid the topic of their relationship in the office are verging on the ridiculous because everyone acts as though it is a given. In the queue at Pulses one morning, Fletch sees Serena balancing coffee cups and a plate of pastries and, laughing, takes a cup from her, saying “Bernie won’t thank you for spilling her breakfast “.

 When Bernie goes for lunch and sits down by herself, Morven comes over and says “Not taking Serena’s place, am I?”

 Gradually, Bernie moves some of her things into Serena’s house so that she doesn’t have to keep going home to change and do her laundry, and they start car sharing to work. One morning after a particularly passionate morning wake up, Serena clings to Bernie before they get out of the car and kisses her deeply, pushing her fingers into that glorious blonde hair, until Bernie is dizzy with want and the car windows are steaming up.

When Serena steps out of the lift to enter their office, Bernie having offered to do coffee duty in an attempt to get her body temperature and heart rate back to something approaching normal, she hears Jasmine, Morven and Jac talking in the corridor.

 “They were really going at it”, says Jasmine, giggling. “I never thought someone my mum’s age would be so energetic!”

 “Subject approaching”, says Morven, seeing Serena.

 “And what was all that about?” asks Serena, sternly.

 “These young things were just commenting on your and Ms Wolfe’s extraordinary stamina”, says Jac.

 “Stamina as in…?” Serena has a dangerous look in her eye.

 “As in how enthusiastically you two were snogging in the car park this morning”, says Ric, appearing in the doorway.

 Serena is clearly exasperated. “Just because we are a tiny bit over fifty does not mean we are dead from the waist down”, she lectures them, “and I’m sure your mothers would agree, even if they don’t want to discuss it with you. Ms Wolfe and I are – as you have obviously worked out- now in a committed relationship. So get used to it!” and she pushes her way into the office, as Jac begins clapping and then the others join in, cheering as well. At that moment, Bernie appears with two take -out coffee cups, holding a paper bag of pastries between her teeth, astonished to find a small crowd apparently cheering her appearance. As she drops the bag onto Serena’s desk and hands her a coffee she asks “What was all that about?”

 “It would appear the cat is out of the bag”, Serena says drily. “Assisted, I should add, by our performance in the car this morning that was apparently witnessed by one of our colleagues”.

 Bernie’s ears go pink. “Oh”, is all she can say. But secretly she’s glad she doesn’t need to pretend any more. Dom was becoming impossible to brush off.

 Serena has adjusted to the fact that their relationship is public knowledge, but they try to avoid close physical contact in the office and stay professional. Being around Bernie on and off all day, however, leaves Serena permanently on the edge of arousal and she can hardly wait until they get home and can close the door. Bernie is an endlessly inventive and very tender lover, focusing all her attention on Serena, and Serena continues to be amazed by how many ways there are to please each other. She is only too aware that their time is limited before Bernie goes to Costa Rica, and she wants to make the most of it. Bernie, on the other hand, is only too aware of all the things she has to do before departing and sometimes she begs off to spend an evening in her flat alone, to get her preparations in order. Serena has a way of breaking into even her iron concentration, and Bernie finds herself torn between her mounting list of urgent tasks and satisfying Serena’s need for attention.

 One morning, Serena is crossing the car park when a woman getting out of a smart looking Audi suddenly looks up and sees her.

 “Well, well, Serena Campbell as I live and breathe”, she says, locking her car with the key fob and falling into step with Serena. “And looking so young and vibrant!”

 “Abby Tate”, says Serena, “it’s been a while.”

 “Indeed”, says Abigail. “You have, I hope, been informed that I’m the new Vice-Chancellor?”

 “Not in so many words,” Serena says casually, “but it wasn’t hard to work out”.

 Abigail doesn’t miss a beat “And I hear things on your patch have taken a turn for the Sapphic?”

 Serena is annoyed but tries not to let it show. Abigail takes another shot.

 “Some butch teacher training type fresh from a warzone, I hear”.

 Serena sees a familiar grey Mazda pulling up just ahead of them, and she slows her pace a little. “Less of the butch if you don’t mind”, and she raises her arm to wave to Bernie.

 “This is she.”

 Bernie is looking stunning this morning in her pink shirt with light chinos, tan pumps, simple gold jewellery and her hair an attractively tousled and gleaming mop topped with sunglasses. She walks over to join them.

 “Bernie Wolfe, meet Abigail Tate, our new Vice-Chancellor”.

 Bernie offers her hand politely and Abigail takes it with obvious relish. “Well, this _is_ a pleasure, Dr. Wolfe. I’ve heard so much about you”, she says insinuatingly, leaving Bernie wondering what exactly she might have heard.

 “Um, nothing bad, I hope”, Bernie says, looking at Serena.

 “Oh gracious, no. Compliments all the way”, smirks Abigail flirtatiously, while Serena can feel her annoyance levels going off the scale.

 “Right, well, I’ll er..leave you ladies to it”, says Bernie, heading for Pulses.

 Serena raises her eyebrows questioningly at Abigail once Bernie has moved out of earshot.

  “Congratulations, Serena,” says Abby, “I concede my point. She’s gorgeous. Now about this Costa Rica Project….”

 Back in the office, Bernie sighs when Serena comes in and looks at the pile of papers on her desk. Serena is about to offer to split it with her when Bernie says, a little shyly, “Serena, I wonder if I could leave early tomorrow afternoon, I need to do some shopping”.

 “Yes, that’s fine, I’m sure I can swing tomorrow afternoon off for you – you’ve finished all your classes anyway.”

 “Yes, right, thank you”, she says, peering from behind her fringe.

 “Do you want me to come with you?” Serena asks, tentatively.

 “Um..no, I don’t think you need to waste your time. It’s just basic stuff, you know”.

 Serena tries not to show her disappointment, realising for the hundredth time that despite her look of adorable helplessness, Bernie has managed a whole, staggeringly successful professional life in exotic locations that she can only dream about, and she feels a stab of jealousy that she is immediately ashamed of. The previous evening, when Bernie had once more begged off and gone home, Serena had finally caved in to her insecurities and called Siân.

 Siân tried to dismiss her fears. “Darling, Bernie needs a bit of space every now and again. As anyone would.”

 “But after next week she’ll have two whole weeks in Costa Rica while I’m here all alone”.

 “It’s not a holiday, Serena, I imagine, in fact, it will be fairly stressful for her. You need to leave her be, let her come to you in her own time. You want a successful project- she’s the ticket, so don’t put her under pressure”.

 “You don’t think she’s going off me?”

 “Don’t be ridiculous, darling. The relationship is still in its first stages, and all that amazing sex must be tiring as well as time-consuming. The poor woman’s probably just knackered. Now stop being neurotic and support her”.

 So Serena puts on her best supportive face and lets Bernie go early the following afternoon. When she returns in the evening she has a satisfied smirk and tells Serena her preparations are now complete.

 “We finish work on Friday and have Saturday free before we head off. So I was thinking, Saturday evening, a quiet night just the two of us?”

 This is said with a strong hint of what might be on the menu, and Serena feels a delicious swirl of joy. “Absolutely, consider Chez Serena booked. No intrusions!”

 The rest of the week is a blur for Bernie as she and Alex and Ollie prepare the material for the Orientation course and email it to the support office in San José. By Friday, Bernie is so tired she can hardly stand up. When she clears her desk at 6pm, Dom bounces in “Farewell party at Albie’s”, he chirps.

 Bernie groans. “Do I really have to go?”

 “You do, you’re the Team Leader and you have to show your face. These guys are disappearing from our lives for 2 years – that’s massive”.

 Serena comes into the office, having changed from her suit into another floaty blouse. She touches Bernie briefly on the arm.

 “Hang in there, Major, just an hour, then we can go home”.

 In the event, the farewell party is lively, everyone is flying high and Bernie and Serena don’t make it back until after 11pm. When they get inside, Jason is miaowing plaintively.

 “Oh poor Jason, he hasn’t been fed this evening”, says Serena, rushing to get his Whiskas. She stops in surprise when she sees food still in his bowl.

 “That’s strange”, she says. “I could have sworn he ate it all up this morning. “

 “Maybe you’ve had a visitor?”

 The cat is still miaowing loudly, and Serena is worried. She tiptoes to the living room door and nudges it open a crack.  As she puts her head round the door, the light snaps on and a voice shouts “Surprise!” Serena does a double take as Elinor jumps up in front of her.

 “For goodness sake, Ellie”, she says crossly, “you nearly gave me a heart attack.”

 Then she sees that Elinor is not alone. A tall young man with dark hair and soft hazel eyes is coming to stand by her and behind him, a slender, fair-haired young woman Serena has never seen before.

 “Mum”, says Ellie. “Where’s Bernie?”

 “I’m here,” Bernie says, on the defensive in case Serena needs help. Then she sees the young man.

 “Cam!  What are you doing here? I thought you were in London!”

 “I was, but we found out from Ellie that you were leaving for Costa Rica on Sunday. We wanted to say goodbye and wish you luck”.

 As he speaks, Bernie catches sight of the young woman. Her mouth opens, then her eyes fill with tears as the girl comes towards her. “Hello Mum,” says Charlotte softly. “I also wanted to say I’m sorry”, and she wraps her arms round Bernie, burying her head in her shoulder. “I missed you so much”, she mumbles into Bernie’s shirt.

 “Charlie”, says Bernie, tears now running down her cheeks. “I missed you too”, and they hug tightly.

 Serena looks from Bernie to Cam to Ellie, her face a picture of amazement.

 “I’m sorry, Ms Campbell”, says Cameron politely. “I should introduce myself. I’m Cameron Dunne, Bernie’s son. And that’s my sister, Charlotte.”

 “Well, it’s an absolute pleasure to meet you”, says Serena graciously, “but how did you three get together?”

 “It’s a funny story”, interjects Elinor. “Dad came to my hall of Residence to bring me some stuff when he was in London for  an old boys reunion. Cam’s dad happened to be visiting him at the same time, and it turns out they know each other. “

 “Why does that not surprise me?” mutters Serena.

 “Yeah, and you know what dad’s like”, says Cam, “he starts telling Dr. Campbell about how his wife dumped him and has turned into a lesbian and is in a relationship with the DOS at HIEC.”

 “At which point,”, grins Ellie, “my dad goes – ‘that’s MY ex-wife, and she’s turned into a lesbian as well!’ Shock, horror all round”.

 Serena can see that Ellie is enjoying this telling of the story.

 “Hold on a sec”, Bernie, who has been following the story, her arms still round Charlotte, looks puzzled. “How did this connect you two exactly?”

 “Ah,” Cameron is grinning broadly now, “we’re in the same Hall of Residence. I’m on rotation at Barts, and I got a room in one of the shared Halls for University of London students. On the same corridor as Ellie, in fact.”

 “Yes, he has a bad habit of stealing my milk from the fridge” says Elinor, and they both laugh. Serena can see that they know each other rather better than she might have thought.

 “And when Charlie came up to London last week to see me, Ellie and I tried to persuade her to come to see you”.

 The pieces are beginning to come together.

 “OK everybody, let’s all sit down and I’ll make some …tea? Coffee? Or would you prefer wine?”

 “Mum, it’s late”, says Elinor. “We just stopped by because we’re all visiting Holby this weekend, and we thought maybe we could take you two out to lunch tomorrow to celebrate your project and the new relationship”.

 “What a lovely thought”, says Bernie, her arms still round Charlotte, rubbing her shoulder affectionately.

 “Actually”, says Charlotte, “Cam and Ellie are going clubbing. But I’d rather stay with you, Mum, if that’s alright”.

 “Yes, yes, of course”, stammers Bernie, totally taken aback. “We can go to my flat”.

 “Oh surely no need”, Serena cuts in smoothly. “I have a perfectly fine guest room and Charlotte is welcome to stay. And you can share with her, Bernie, if that’s what you’d both like”, says Serena sincerely.

 “Is that OK with you, Mum?” asks Charlotte.

 “If that’s comfortable for you, Charlie, it’s fine. Serena’s house is much nicer than my bare flat, I can tell you.”

 Once Cameron and Elinor have gone, Serena makes tea for everyone and decides to go to her room to leave Bernie and Charlotte alone to talk. But first she can’t resist quizzing the young woman.

 “Um, Charlotte, are Elinor and your brother er…dating?”

 Charlotte looks amused “Oh I’m really not sure,” she says, “but they do hang out together quite a lot”.

 

*****

On Saturday morning, Serena comes slowly awake with a warm weight on her breast, and as she surfaces she realises that Bernie must have come to her in the night, after Charlotte had fallen asleep. Without dislodging the hand, she turns her head to look at the alarm clock. 9.00, they had slept longer than usual, both worn out by the busy week. She wriggles a little under the hand and adjusts the fingers just so. Bernie opens her eyes.

“Hey”, says Serena softly.

“Hey yourself,” says Bernie, squeezing, hearing Serena’s sharp intake of breath.

 “How..how did you sleep?” asks Serena, senses now on fire from Bernie’s closeness, a tingle radiating out from her nipple.

 “Well, very well, in fact,” smirks Bernie, “after I left the spare room, that is”.

 Serena turns to look at her, smiling, eyes signalling interest. “Maybe we needn’t get up just yet?” but as she speaks there is a crash from the kitchen below them. Serena groans.

 “God, that damn cat? What is it this time?” as she hauls herself reluctantly out of bed, leaving Bernie sprawled, still sleepy, under the duvet.

 Serena dons her navy silk dressing gown and descends, ready to lock Jason in the conservatory for the whole day. As she enters the kitchen, however, it is Charlotte who is standing over a smashed mug.

 “Oh Serena, I’m so sorry,” says Charlotte. “Jason was asking for his breakfast and I didn’t want to disturb you, but when I went to get a tin of his food from the cupboard, this mug fell down.”

 “Never mind, Charlotte, it’s just a mug. Perhaps you could get the dustpan and brush for me from that cupboard under the stairs, hmm?”

 Jason is dancing around, miaowing pitifully, his big green eyes doing a number on Serena. As Charlotte reappears with the dustpan and brush, Serena is reaching into the fridge to get the opened tin of cat food.

 “Oh! I didn’t think to look there”, says Charlotte, pink with embarrassment.

 “No problem”, smiles Serena, sweeping up the bits and quickly depositing them in the rubbish bin.

 “Now, what do you like for breakfast?”

 By the time Serena has put a pot of coffee on for herself and Bernie and made tea and toast for Charlotte, Bernie appears, fully dressed.

 “Going somewhere?” enquires Serena.

 “I ..uh..yes, first I need to take this young lady to her father’s, then I thought I’d go to my flat to pack for tomorrow.”

 “How long will that take?” asks Serena

 “We booked a table at the Lamb and Flag for lunch”, says Charlotte. “12.30. Is that OK?”

 “Ah, sure, yes. I’ll swing by and pick you up at 12.15, Serena, OK?”

 Serena is a little disappointed to lose Bernie for the whole morning, but tells herself she needs time to get herself ready.

 Bernie senses her mood and as they are leaving after breakfast, she turns to kiss Serena on the cheek and whispers “I haven’t forgotten that tonight is just for us”.

 Lunch with their three children is a joyous affair. Charlotte has obviously moved on from her anger at Bernie’s apparent deception and seems to have taken to Serena. Cameron, with his laid back good humour, is having what seems to be a very positive effect on Elinor, as she refrains during the whole lunch from making any snide or cutting remarks,  and is pleasant to Bernie throughout. Serena is deeply relieved with this turn of events, especially for Bernie, who she knows has suffered deeply from her daughter’s reaction to the divorce.  As they part, Serena invites them all to dinner the following evening, to be there when Bernie’s plane lands in San José, and she will call them on Skype.

 Finally, Bernie and Serena find themselves alone with a whole evening to themselves. Bernie’s luggage is sitting ready in the hallway and the paperwork is done.  The afternoon is warm and golden with a slight breeze so Serena sets up the picnic table in the garden and asks Bernie to fetch the coals for the barbecue while she prepares an early dinner. By 5pm, as she puts the finishing touches to the meal, Bernie sticks her head round the kitchen door.

 “Shall I fire up the barbie now?”

 “Do you know how to do that?”, asks Serena.

 “Well I did once set fire to my mother-in-law’s curtains”, says Bernie seriously, “you know, a burst of flame and a gust of wind and whoosh!”

 Serena is about to make a retort, then she sees the look on Bernie’s face and starts laughing.

 “OK, OK, off you go and mind my garden furniture! I’m going to have a shower and change”, she says, and she heads upstairs to the ensuite. Bernie takes this as her cue and goes up to the guest bathroom via the spare room where she has secreted her clothes. She showers and washes her hair, then gets dressed and perfumed and runs a brush through her hair before rushing back to light the barbecue.

 Serena takes her time. Her excitement at having this evening with Bernie with nothing to distract them is tempered as always by little tremors of uncertainty. She looks at her body in the full-length mirror. She no longer has the waist of a twenty-something, her breasts are heavier and fuller and certainly saggier than ten years ago, her bottom squishier; her hair, coloured and professionally cut, is grey underneath. Bernie always looks so youthful and energetic, her slim, super-toned body never betraying her fifty-one years. Serena sighs. She can’t see what Bernie is so attracted to, not when she could have anyone- Serena gulps at the thought of a gorgeous Costa Rican woman getting Bernie’s attention, then pushes the thought away. Tonight Bernie is hers, only hers, and she intends to make it special.

 Bernie jumps up as Serena enters the living room, her mouth open in astonishment at Serena’s appearance. Serena does a double take when she sees Bernie, hand over her mouth in absolute shock. Standing before her is the twenty-four year old Cowboy from Casablanca, flip flops  in place of desert boots, but replete with button front Levi’s, white shirt, tan belt and ..oh..that adorable waistcoat. Never mind that a few wrinkles have found their way into her neck, or a few lines around the eyes. Bernie is the same girl Serena fell in love with almost at first sight. For a moment, Serena can’t move, so bedazzled is she by the waistcoat and the belt, cinching in a waist that seems not to have expanded in twenty-eight years.  Bernie, for her part, is stunned by how beautiful Serena appears. She has found a sexy wrap around blouse in a deep burgundy print, similar in style to the one she wore in Casablanca, though in a more mature colour and pattern. Her jeans are close-fitting, boot cut, and hug her rounded hips and thighs beautifully. Bernie can’t wait to get her hands on that sexy bottom.

 They move towards each other and Serena grabs the front parts of Bernie’s waistcoat as Bernie’s hands move to grip Serena’s hips.

 “Where on earth did you find this?” she breathes.

 “You won’t believe me”, smiles Bernie. “It was in a box in Marcus’ attic for years and years – I used to wear it a lot, and I never wanted to throw it out. But after I left he sent a box of my stuff to a charity shop. I didn’t find out until a month later when Cameron told me, so I called him to ask which charity shop. That’s why I took the afternoon off on Wednesday. I went to track it down. I was so lucky they hadn’t sold it, in fact it was so ratty that they had had to send it to be specially cleaned. I bought it back, the belt, too.”

 Serena now lowers her hands to Bernie’s thighs and the fingers of her right hand sneak inwards. She gives a low growl as her finger tips find the metal of the buttons.

 “Jesus, Bernie, you’re killing me. Where did you get these jeans?”

 “Oh that was easy”, laughs Bernie. “Everything is online these days” and she refuses to elaborate, but wraps Serena in a tighter hug and finds her lips, pulling her into a deep kiss, her tongue finding Serena’s until both are panting.

 Serena’s fingers are pushing between Bernie’s fly buttons, but Bernie gently brushes them away. “Patience, Fraulein, let’s build a little anticipation, hmm?”, and she squeezes Serena’s bottom and backs away, “now where’s that wine?”

 Serena has outdone herself this evening, thinks Bernie. She has prepared starters of stuffed peppers and mixed olives, and she has marinated free range chicken joints which she places on the barbecue. She has even found a good Sauvignon Blanc for Bernie, having deduced early on that Shiraz wasn’t her first preference. Bernie falls about laughing as Serena covers her blouse with an old T-shirt to do the barbecueing.

 “Is that…? No, surely not”.

 “Surely is, Cowboy”, laughs Serena, turning to face Bernie so that she can see the faint words Be My MATE and the logo of the Moroccan Association of Teachers of English on the chest.

 “I didn’t think T-shirt longevity ran to 28 years”.

 “It does when they are as carefully preserved as this one has been”, smiles Serena.

 After the starters, half of which Serena places back in the fridge to keep for the following evening’s dinner, she brings out the main course, a full couscous with summer vegetables and chick peas in a perfect sauce, to go with the paprika-honey roast chicken.

 “Mmm…” says Bernie. “I can taste..ginger, black pepper, saffron, cayenne….this is fabulous, Serena”.

 “You know,“ Serena says, “I had a Moroccan friend in Casablanca. She was a teacher in my school. Her name was Noor, which means ‘light’. She taught me how to cook Moroccan dishes and I spent a lot of time with her family.”

 “That’s great”, says Bernie. “Did you keep in touch?”

 “For a while”, says Serena, “but then she married an American and went to live in the US so I didn’t see her again”.

 There’s a silence as Bernie mops up the juices on her plate with the remaining couscous grains.  Then she sits back and looks at Serena.

 “We keep coming back to Morocco”, she says finally.  “It was the starting point to our relationship, I guess, but there’s more to it”.

 Serena keeps her eyes steady on Bernie, not sure what is coming next. She can see Bernie struggling with something she wants to say.

 “What I mean to say, Serena, is that I….when I kissed you at that party, it was the moment when I knew that I preferred women to men. Or rather, at that moment, I preferred you to anyone I had kissed before. And later, when we… when all that happened, I felt terrible. I knew that was all I wanted, but I was afraid I had taken advantage of you, and afraid of ..what I knew about myself”. She looks down.  Serena reaches over and squeezes her hand.

 “You changed everything for me, Serena. But what I couldn’t know  then was that it would always be you. Not just any woman. You were always special. You were The One”. There are tears shining in her eyes as she holds Serena’s hand tightly.

 Serena is moved beyond words. So focused has she been on her insecurities that this declaration comes as a complete surprise, rendering her momentarily incapable of speech. Then, brushing a tear away, she says in a low voice “And I wasn’t totally honest with you, either, Bernie. I chased you relentlessly for the rest of that year, all I dreamed about was you. I drove Siân crazy mooning over you but I was too afraid just to go and ask someone for your address and write to you. I thought you would reject me. When I got back to the UK, I even tried to find another woman, to see if it was the same. Edward and I went to a party in Stepney and I kissed this woman, one of his colleagues, Fleur, I think she was called. “

 Bernie is staring at her transfixed. “And what..what was it like?”

 Serena sighs. “It was soft and nice in a way, but it wasn’t you. No one could ever be you. It took me years to come to that conclusion.”

 She feels in her pocket and brings out a flat square box.

 “Before I left Casablanca, I went shopping for souvenirs with Noor. We were in the medina and I found this in a goldsmith’s shop”, she opens the box. Inside is a tiny gold key on a gold chain. “Noor took off the gold chain she was wearing and threaded the key onto it and gave it to me, telling me it represented the key to my heart for someone I loved”.  She takes the chain out of the box and reaches behind Bernie to fasten it around her neck.

 " Take care of it, Bernie, that’s my heart you’re wearing now”, she says softly, as Bernie’s eyes fill with tears, the meaning of Serena’s words hitting her hard. “I’ll wear it with pride”, she whispers, visibly moved. Then she reaches into the pocket of her waistcoat and brings out an object.

 “Funnily enough, I also went shopping before leaving Morocco. I bought several bracelets in the Medina in Marrakesh, and I gave them to people back home. But this one I couldn’t give to anyone. It had your name all over it.”

 Serena looks down and sees an ornate silver bangle, quite slim, a beautifully wrought design with an almost opaque pale lilac amethyst set in the front part. Bernie slips it onto her wrist.

 “That’s my souvenir for you”, she whispers. “Wear it while I’m away, it’s your talisman”.

 Serena’s eyes water again and she reaches for Bernie and kisses her deeply, not letting go. They rock together until they collapse back onto the garden sofa seat. Serena can feel the iron frame digging into her neck as she pulls Bernie on top of her but she keeps going. It is Bernie who breaks first. “Ouch, it must be hurting your back”, she says, getting up and offering her hand to Serena and heading indoors, careful to ensure that Jason doesn’t follow them. In the living room, Serena tosses some cushions onto the floor and grabs a blanket from the sofa that she spreads beneath them. She pulls Bernie down and moves on top, straddling her.

 “Now you’re all mine, Major”, she whispers seductively as she opens the buttons on Bernie’s shirt, pushing it and the waistcoat off her shoulders, shivering at the discovery of bare skin beneath the cotton. Bernie gasps as Serena’s mouth moves to her breasts and her hands finally go where they have always wanted to go;  she hears herself moan  as Serena  unbuttons the tight jeans slowly, button by button, keeping eye contact with Bernie the whole time. Bernie’s breath is coming in uneven bursts, she tries to practise deep yoga breathing, but to no avail. As Serena opens the last button, she eases the jeans off Bernie’s hips, taking her underwear with them, still looking Bernie in the eye. Bernie is throbbing with anticipation as Serena hovers over her, hesitating for a second, looking down to gauge the terrain - she hasn’t done this before, having always been on the receiving end, and she is self-conscious about her lack of experience. Looking up once more, she meets Bernie’s eyes, pleading for her to go ahead;  smiling back, she takes a deep breath and dives in. 

*****

Very early the next morning, Serena drives Bernie to HIEC where she boards the minibus that will take her to Heathrow with her colleagues. It’s so early that Serena feels she has got up in the middle of the night. They had retired to bed at 8pm but sleep was not the first thing on their minds. She reckons Bernie may have had about 4 hours’ sleep if she’s lucky.

Once Bernie has gone, with many kisses and touching the key around her neck, Serena doesn’t know what to do. The flight is British Airways to Madrid then an Iberia code share to San José. Their scheduled arrival time in Costa Rica is 9.35 pm UK time. Serena cleans the house and drinks coffee until she gets a text from Bernie to say they have arrived safely in Madrid. After that she takes a long nap and when she wakes, she thinks of Bernie, Alex and the team somewhere over the Atlantic Ocean. She has a vaguely uneasy feeling, but she puts it down to the uncanny silence in her house. The afternoon drags and when Elinor, Cameron and Charlotte arrive for dinner, Serena is getting her second wind. She serves the starters from yesterday with salad, grilled chicken and wine to praise from their three offspring. Jason enjoys showing off in front of everyone, performing somersaults and dragging cushions around until Serena puts him in another room. As 9.30 approaches she is visibly nervous.

 “Cool it, Mum”, says Elinor, “Bernie must have taken a zillion flights to God knows where in her life”.

 Cameron laughs, “She has. Get her to tell you one time about the near crash landing in Kathmandu! Or those military flights into and out of Afghanistan!”

 “OK, OK,” says Serena, “I get it, but you can’t blame me. Our whole team is on that plane, not just Bernie. I need to know they’ve arrived safely.”

 Cameron is tracking the Iberia flight on his phone but ten o’ clock comes and goes and Serena is twisting her napkin between her hands. She has a more than uneasy feeling now and can’t sit still. She turns on the TV and opens the news site on her iPad. Figuring that Costa Rica is more in US than UK news space, she keeps CNN on the iPad and the TV tuned to the BBC. The three young people have gone silent, realising that this is later than it should be. At 10.40, Cameron shouts “It’s landed” and they all cheer. Five minutes later breaking news on the CNN website reports that a flight from Spain to Costa Rica encountered heavy turbulence over the Caribbean and was forced to change direction in an effort to avoid it. However, the flight did eventually land safely with some passenger injuries. Charlotte is pale and snuggles up to Serena, holding her tightly round the middle. Serena, her mind replaying every airline disaster movie she’s ever seen, finds herself rubbing Charlotte’s shoulder to reassure her. Cameron is searching for the CNN TV cable channel. Finally a report comes on from a US reporter in San José.

 “Passengers on Iberia and British Airways flight 4271 from Madrid to San José, Costa Rica, landed safely this afternoon after a terrifying encounter with heavy turbulence. The pilots were quick to change direction once they realised what lay in front, but could not escape it entirely. The flight landed one hour late and three people, two cabin crew and one passenger, were taken to hospital. Other passengers with minor cuts and bruises were treated at the scene. We managed to speak to some of them”.

 The scene switches to a group of people who are standing at the entrance to the airport with medical staff milling around. Several Spanish people talk, then the camera moves to a familiar face.

 “This is Alexandra Dawson from the UK, who is travelling with a teaching group to work on a project in Costa Rica. Can you tell us what happened, Ma’am?”

 Alex is pale but otherwise unharmed. “Hi, yes, we hit the turbulence about 30 minutes out of San José, and the plane just took a dive. It was like we had fallen into a hole or something, it was totally terrifying. People were screaming, and some of the cabin crew who were standing at the time fell down. There was no warning. When we levelled out the pilots were obviously trying to change direction to get away from it but for about 10 minutes it was sheer hell as we were being thrown around all over the place. Eventually we reached calmer air and they apologised and said we would be late because they needed to change the route.”

 The reporter takes back the microphone and says “Oh here comes one of your colleagues, by the look of it, and she has just been treated by medics”.

 Serena gasps as Bernie comes into focus, a butterfly dressing on her eyebrow where it’s obvious she will have a black eye tomorrow.

 “Hello there, Ma’am, can you tell us what happened to your eye?”

“Hello,”, Bernie says, “I’m Berenice Wolfe from Holby in the UK and I’m the Team Leader of this project. If our friends and family are watching I just want to let you know that we are all OK. It was scary, but we survived, so please don’t worry. I got my injury because I jumped up to close a luggage compartment that had opened when the turbulence hit, and a case fell partly out and hit me here”, she touches her brow. “But it’s fine, just a minor thing”.

More passengers then come on with similar comments and the little group in Holby sits glued to the screen, simultaneously relieved that Bernie is OK but reliving the horror by imagining what those minutes must have felt like to the passengers. By 11pm the UK networks have picked up the story and Serena’s phone is buzzing with messages of support and relief. Finally, at midnight, Bernie calls on Skype from her hotel room.

The account she gives is terrifying enough to put anyone off flying, but, as she points out, the crew were well trained and no one panicked once the pilots had explained what was happening.

 “Look, we’re OK. I thought it was touch and go for a few minutes in that dive, but the pilots were brilliant. The worst part was being thrown about for 10 minutes. Several people were sick. Duval actually puked over himself. It seems he has a phobia of flying in any case. Big macho guy, but a real pussy when it comes down to it.” She smiles grimly. “I think he’s embarrassed now, so we may not hear too much from him for the next few days.”

 She chats a bit more to Cam and Charlotte then asks to speak privately with Serena. The others go out to the conservatory.

 “Serena, please don’t worry. I’m really OK and so are the others. They’re young and resilient. The girls and Oliver and Darren were brilliant, no panic at all.”

Serena is twisting her bangle on her wrist, but she smiles at Bernie’s description of Xavier, especially when she hears it is the “Cunning Linguist” T-shirt that got soiled.

 “I’m just so glad you’re safe, Major. Now go and get some sleep, you must be shattered! I love you so much,” and she smiles into the webcam, seeing Bernie only as a fuzzy image over a poor connection but hoping she can see the look in her eyes, conveying all she can’t articulate at that moment.

 Bernie smiles back and touches the gold key round her neck. “I love you, Serena Campbell never doubt it. These two weeks will fly by and I’ll be back with you before you know it. Give my love to everyone.” And she is gone.

 Serena shuts down the computer and goes back to join her family, relief written all over her face. She opens another bottle of Shiraz and they raise a toast.

 “To the future”.

 

**Author's Note:**

> TESOL- Teaching English to Speakers of Other Languages  
> CELTA- Certificate of Teaching English to Speakers of Other Languages- the first level a TESOL teacher needs  
> DELTA- Diploma (the next level taken). These 2 exams require a practical assessment.  
> MA TESOL -- Masters in TESOL


End file.
